


Habits

by melliejellie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anxiety, Depression, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, It's time for some freaking fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, an alternate title could be everyone has so much emotional baggage, but finding people who make it a little bit better, but the feelings take a little longer, emotionally, they're gonna bone fairly early, tsukki's birthday, versatile couple, you know just dealing with adult life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-03-28 11:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 88,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melliejellie/pseuds/melliejellie
Summary: Tsukishima used to have a set of comfortable habits. Now, his three year relationship is over, his best friend has moved thousands of miles away, and he’s starting a new job. He likes the comfort of routines but can’t seem to find what his new normal should be.And then Kuroo Tetsurou comes back into his life.





	1. Well, this is weird.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! Welcome! Won't you come along on this journey with me? Where are we going? I have an outline, but we all know how much those don't matter once things get rolling. Can't wait to find out! This ship is my bread and butter.

“There’s an art guy coming later. He had some weird last name, starts with a “K,” but you’ll know who he is. He looks like an ‘art guy.’” Kei’s boss announces on his way out the door, waving his hand dismissively. Naturally, he gets to leave on time while the rest of them remain at the office to finish paperwork or, as it seems, wait for some dumb art guy and show him the walls that need to be filled and help set up payment. 

Kei doesn’t understand why a new civil engineering firm needs artistic bridges and harbors on the walls, anyway, but he supposes it’s better than artistic renderings of sewage and water pipes, their far more frequent types of projects. He sits at his desk, doodling picturesque water pipe grid systems as the minutes pass by.

Five o’clock passes. Five thirty passes. His coworkers start to leave, too, their mundane tasks completed. He knows things will pick up soon, that clients are lined up, but the first week has been painfully boring. His most strenuous task this week was fixing the printer that everyone wanted to throw out the window. 

At six o’clock, Kei folds his arms and puts his head down. His desk is near the door. This guy will see him when he walks in, he assures himself. There’s only one or two people left now besides him and his stomach is growling. He thinks back and is unsure what he had for lunch. Did he eat lunch? Probably. He had breakfast, for sure. Did he go to the convenient store for lunch? He feels like he did, like he had a meat bun or -

“Excuse me?” A low voice interrupts his thoughts and he starts to raise his head. “I sincerely apologize for being late. Our last client needed far more attention than we -- Tsukishima?”

Kei’s eyes snap up and his body jolts upright. His mind goes blank like it’s rebooting as he takes in the man in front of him. It’s Kuroo Tetsurou, older and different, but unmistakably Kuroo. His hair is still a mess, but now it looks more purposeful. A few piercings dot his ears and there are distinct lines from tattoos peeking out from the collar of his white button down and around his wrist below the cuff of his blazer. For a moment his face seems blank, too, before it breaks into a familiar smug grin.

“Kuroo-san?” He asks because he can’t think of anything else to say.

Kuroo laughs. It starts as a chuckle then his whole body joins the affair. “Well, this is weird.”

Kei’s eyes dart around the office looking for who is still around, taking note of who is witness to this obvious breach of personal and professional happening right in front of him. He grins as a practiced social response, but he can’t think of anything to say. 

“Been a while, huh?” Kuroo steps closer to his desk and sticks his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight on his feet back and forth. 

Kei nods and stands, acutely aware of everything his arms and legs are doing. “Yea, like, years.” He says. It feels dumb as soon as it leaves his mouth. They both know that, obviously. 

A silence passes and it is uncomfortable, like feel the tension pulling at your skin uncomfortable. Kei isn’t great at most social interactions, but he especially doesn’t know how to navigate this particular interaction. What is someone supposed to do when an old friend… make-out buddy… something in between shows up after four years of not speaking? Get to the task at hand? More small talk and catching up? He knows he could gain some sort of conversational footing if only his brain would stop emptying out whenever he gathered a thought. “How have you been?” He manages. That’s a normal thing to say. Kei feels mildly pleased with himself.

“Good. Great. Just busy getting older. Job. Bills. Slowly creeping towards death, you know.” He cracks a smile.

“Same.” Kei grins from the corner of his mouth. “Should we…?” He motions down the hallways and starts moving away from his desk towards the rest of the office. 

Kuroo stutters. “Oh yea! The reason I’m here. Sure!”

Kei successfully avoids anymore attempts at catching up for a while. He walks Kuroo around the office, pointing out the places designated for giant bridge art. He shares his boss’ preferences from a list and Kuroo measures and takes notes about the spaces in a small leather-bound notebook. 

As they walk and he works, Kei watches him, looking for the guy he still talked to some four years ago. He’s still shorter, barely. Still broad-shouldered. He still takes up more space than he physically occupies with his colossal personality. When he moves to measure, his sleeves ride up and Kei catches more of the ink underneath, more muscles and tanned skin. There are moments when he sees high school Kuroo, in his hair and his laugh, but then they morph into the man before him, someone almost, but not entirely, new. 

Kuroo snaps his notebook shut and Kei rocks on the balls of his feet, pressing into the floor. It’s been four years, he reminds himself, those memories have nothing to do with who either of them are now. 

Kei tries to list the ways he might seem different to Kuroo now. Has he changed? He knows he looks different. Older. He’s not nearly as purposefully mean as he used to be, though there are certain people who would beg to differ. That’s why no one ever sticks around for long enough to -- 

“Glad to see you stuck with engineering.” Kuroo jolts him out of his thoughts. “Figured you would, after all those scholarship offers you got in your third year.”

That was just before they stopped talking, Kei recalls. A habit of texting daily became weekly, then monthly, then never. “And I take it you didn’t stick with physics?” 

“Actually, I did. Double-majored. Physics and Studio Art. In hindsight, it was probably more than I should have done, but it got me here. A lot of never sleeping happened.” 

Kei starts walking back towards the front of the building, past his desk. “And where is that, exactly?”

Kuroo follows behind, his voice carrying in the tight hallway. “It’s not my strength by any means, but I got a job working with an Interior Design Firm helping them acquire pieces to fit client needs. It’s low key as long as clients that have no idea what they want don’t bug you constantly. It leaves me time outside of work for my own art, which I like.” Kuroo catches up and his eyes lock on Kei’s, like he’s waiting for a response.

Kei lets go a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, then raises an eyebrow. “And what do you paint?” He can only imagine. He can only see a third year middle blocker, obsessed with his sport, creating artistic renderings of strategic plays. 

He stretches his arms over his head and yawns, his sleeves creeping up revealing more of the art beneath. “It’s going to sound so dumb, but I don’t paint often. Instead, I kind of do modern woodblock prints, like, that same style, and the same process, but with modern topics.” Kuroo shrugs. “I told you how it would sound.” His voice jumps a little, “Oh, and photography because it’s easier to make side money off of lame friend-of-a-friend weddings and black and white photos of tall buildings for doctor’s offices than it is to make bank off of some woodblock print representing life in a modern city.” 

They reach Kei’s desk again and Kuroo pauses. “Your turn. You owe me some backstory. What is Tsukki’s life like now?”

Kei bristles at the nickname. For years now, only Tadashi has called him that. Hearing the name from Kuroo’s lips again, Kei time travels to a hot summer, both of them tired and sweaty from practice before dinner, finding time to shove their tongues down each other’s throats in an unlocked locker room. “This. Not a whole lot else.” He knows that he sounds like he’s dodging the question, but it’s true. At least, lately it’s been true.

“Come on, you’re young. You have to have plans tonight.” 

Kei tries to read his face to figure out why he’s asking but comes up short. Two months ago, yes. Kei had plans every single Friday. Now, no. There’s an empty apartment he’s still getting used to and some leftovers in the fridge waiting for him. He’ll meet up with friends tomorrow. It’s fine for a Friday, he assures himself. “Nothing tonight.”

“Well, you hungry? I skipped lunch by accident and I’m dying.” Kei barely has time to begin processing the question before Kuroo rambles on. “I know it’s, like, grandpa dinner o’clock, but I wouldn’t mind getting to catch up on the past four years. Only if you want to, though.” Kuroo’s face is hopeful, but guarded. Kei understands. 

He thinks about the questionably old Chinese food sitting next to equally questionable meat and sighs. He’s not even sure if he ate lunch and he knows his new habits. There’s no guarantee he’d eat anything substantial if he went back to his apartment, not after settling in to another comfortable round of self-indulgent moping. He’s trying to do better. He promised Tadashi he would and his best friend is still as persistent as ever. “Sure, I just need to grab my bag.”

He tries not to pay attention to the smile that stretches across Kuroo’s face when he agrees. 

 

***

 

The first moments were terribly awkward, but the screams of children and the promise of a cheap dinner he didn’t have to make himself help him settle in. They’re at a cheesy family friendly Italian place down the street from his office. No one can read too far into a situation when two booths down a toddler is taking off his shoe to put it in his younger sister’s face. The most expensive thing on the menu is 900 yen and Kuroo is half way through their finest carafe of red wine for 350 yen. It smells like poison. It takes like poison. And Kei is glad he came. Nothing about any of this is what he had expected for his Friday night and, for what it's worth, that feels like a positive step.

Kuroo naturally took the conversational lead, launching into updates on everyone Kei knew from Nekoma. He talks faster and faster, his eyes lighting up as he talks about his friends. Kenma lives nearby and has changed relatively little. Lev splits his time between Japan and Russia in his role as an interpreter, and so on until he reached the topic of the rest of the third gym crew. Bokuto and Akaashi are still together, they live not too terribly far away, and the three of them still hang out a few times a month. 

At the mention the two of them, Kei rapidly changes the subject to Tadashi, how he graduated from a school in Miyagi with a degree in international business, did an internship in London, and fell in love thousands of miles away. 

“He’s living there now, actually, in London. He got married a few months ago.” Kei circles another mouthful of pasta on his fork. “I was best man at the ceremony here and at the one they had a few weeks later there.” He leans back and hears the plastic of the seat squeak behind him. 

“He lives abroad now? I’m surprised, but good for him.” Kuroo is on his second carafe of disturbingly cheap wine. His meal has been devoured and the waitress seems to be dodging his pleas for more breadsticks. “You keep in touch with anyone else from your old team much?” 

“I went to school with Yachi, our old manager, if you remember her, and I keep up with Hinata every now and then.”

“Didn’t see that one coming. You acted like you hated that guy.”

Kei shrugs. “Well, I’d hope I wouldn’t still be the same person I was in high school. Tadashi and Hinata were close, so it made sense.” It made sense because Hinata’s aptitude for blunt honesty helped Kei break through to the other side of some tough times, but no one needs that information.

“What’s he up to?”

“Back in Miyagi. He moved just a few weeks ago.” Kei raises an eyebrow. “To move in with Kageyama.”

Kuroo’s mouth drops open before he grins wide. “For real?”

“Yea, they were on and off for years, but now that Kageyama has effectively aged out of the national team, things have been less… dramatic between the two of them.”

Kuroo looks positively giddy. “What do they both do?”

“Kageyama is a volleyball coach at a university in Sendai. And Hinata, you’ll love this,” Kei’s tone is flat, “is a PE teacher at a middle school.”

Kei was right. Kuroo does enjoy that fact judging by the way his eyes light up. “Hinata-sensei! It’s perfect! Please tell me he’s just as energetic as he used to be.”

“He has to be to motivate middle schoolers to run and get Kageyama to be anything other than a prickly ass all the time.”

The conversation rolls on, awkward at times, but easier than Kei thought it would be. Talking about the past is a comfortable common ground and, honestly, it feels good. It’s like getting to press rewind on several years of unfortunate decisions. It’s not just reminiscing. Suddenly, he’s that person again, a teenager learning to put in some effort because his friends refuse to let him be an idle passenger in his life. 

“So you can’t have been at that firm for long now, judging by how empty it looks. What did you do before?”

“Same job, different company.” 

“Why’d you move companies?”

“A slightly larger paycheck.”

Kuroo laughs. “You’re really making me work for any details, aren’t you?”

“I told you all about Hinata and Kageyama.” Kei defends. His meal is long gone and some of the awkwardness is starting to creep back in. 

“Fine then, do you have _a Kageyama_ in your life now?”

Kei fidgets with his empty glass. “No.”

“Good. Me neither. No need, right?” Kuroo triumphantly raises a half-empty glass of the world’s worst red wine. 

Kei half-heartedly grins. “Right.” No need for someone to get tired of him again. No need for someone to go back to who they were supposed to be with forever. No need to be called cold and distant. No need to try to be loved when he is so inherently unlovable. 

“No need for someone to remind me how sour I am.” It slides out so easily, the negative loop in his head is always on repeat. When it comes out, it’s as natural as breathing.

“You’re not sour, Tsukki, just... “ Kuroo searches for a word, “careful.”

“Thanks, very few people see it that way. I’m either ‘distant’ or ‘cold.’” 

“Well, fuck ‘em.” Kuroo says decisively, apparently reading between the lines. “If they don’t like you how you are, fuck ‘em. They didn’t deserve you anyway.” 

Kei can tell the cheap wine has done its job, judging by the pink flush across Kuroo’s cheeks, but he appreciates the sentiment anyway. He can believe that’s true for about five minutes.

Eventually, the waitress politely refuses to bring any more wine and they end the evening discussing the great unknowns of being a twenty-something in Tokyo. Kei is comforted by the fact that Kuroo seems to have very little figured out as well. Kuroo shares a story about not realizing that his gas bill wasn’t a part of his rent and having to fork over a ridiculous amount of money six months after living in his current place. Then living off of rice and tofu, “like some freakin’ monk,” for weeks after. Kei laughs and offers his own failures, the lighter ones.

Outside the restaurant, Kuroo insists on giving Kei his number. Kei rolls his eyes as Kuroo recites it, but he holds his phone close to chest, hiding fact that he isn’t really typing. Kuroo’s number is already in there, saved with a cat emoji, exactly the way Kuroo typed it in seven years ago.

 

***

 

It’s past nine when Kei opens the door to his dark apartment. He flips on the light in his entryway, hangs up his keys next to the door, slips off his jacket and puts in on its hook, then carefully steps out of his shoes before lining them up against the wall. 

He kicks the box of his ex’s junk still sitting in his entryway. Clearly, Touma’s never going to come get it. It’s been two months. Kei knows he should just throw it out, but that would be the moment he showed up to get it and it’d become another capital “T” Thing to deal with.

His socked feet pad softly down the hallway and he slips into his small bedroom to change out of his work clothes. His work shirt and pants are placed in the hamper and he puts on a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt he had folded at the end of his bed this morning. 

Kei flops down onto his small couch, mere feet from his bedroom, and checks the two clocks he has on his lock screen. It’s lunchtime in London. 

21:14  
Kei>> you at lunch?

Tadashi>> just about to go  
Tadashi>> had a meeting run late  
Tadashi>> how’s your friday? You still boring? 

Kei>> obviously  
Kei>> it was… weird. but fine

Tadashi>> ooh now I’m interested ◖⚆ᴥ⚆◗  
Tadashi>> gimme 5, then I can eat and chat

Kei tries not to just sit there for five minutes, but that’s essentially what he does. He opens his email, closes it. Opens an app, closes it. Opens another app, closes it. 

21:20  
Tadashi>> text or call? Call is kinda easier when I’m eating

Kei>> either works

Immediately a call pops up from the messaging app Tadashi loves to use, the one where he can download and send an endless amount of stickers. 

“Happy weekend!” Tadashi's voice carries softly from the other end and Kei closes his eyes, sinking into the couch cushions. 

“You’re nearly there, too.” 

“Yea, and I’m leaving a little early today. We’re headed up to a lake house we’re renting for the weekend with some friends.” Kei can imagine the look on his friend’s face, a big grin and smile lines forming at the creases of his eyes. 

This weekend Kei’s going to play board games with his engineering friends like he does every Saturday and on Sunday he’ll run errands and read. He created that new routine to fill the old ones. It’s not the worst. 

“So, what was weird about today?”

“Work was whatever” Kei starts slowly, “and then you know who shows up out of nowhere? Kuroo.”

“What?” Tadashi sputters. “Like, Nekoma captain Kuroo? Sucked your face Kuroo? Oh my god, was it so awkward?”

“People can hear you!” Kei shoots up from his spot on the couch, mortified. 

“Yea, but it’s in Japanese. We’re having a magical, secret conversation. Answer me! How was it?”

“It was weird.” Kei laughs softly, leaning back down. 

“Wait, where did you see him?”

“At work. He’s part of some design firm that’s helping set us up with dumb paintings of bridges.”

Tadashi makes a sympathetic noise. “That _is_ weird. Did you act like a person? Did you die? Are you going to see him again?”

“Rude. No. And he’s the one handling the job, so, probably?”

Kei can hear snickers on the other end. “I just need you to know how many comments I’ve just kept to myself. I am a really good friend.” He clears his throat. 

“We ate dinner together.” Kei says flatly. He purposefully ends the explanation there. 

“Excuse me? How did you not lead with that? Okay first off,” Tadashi breathes, “I’m proud of you for going out. Gold star there. Then you had an extended conversation with a human person? Another gold star. And you ate a real dinner. These are all such good steps. I’m really proud.”

Kei grimaces, but he knows he means it. Tadashi has been his ever-present self-care coach since the breakup, even from thousands of miles away. 

“It was awkward, but enjoyable, I guess.” Kei summarizes vaguely. 

Tadashi tests the waters, dragging little details out of Kei like only he can. They stick with the facts - what they ate, where they sat, what they talked about, and more importantly who they talked about (Tadashi knows to avoid the Akaashi Topic). Tadashi doesn’t push too far and Kei can hear his smile through the phone. 

Towards the end of Tadashi’s lunch break, Kei can tell Tadashi has been sitting on a question. “Go ahead, whatever it is. I won’t bite.”

“You sure?” He asks and Kei just grunts in response. “Are you still attracted to him?”

“Too soon.”

“Too soon for him in particular or for--”

“Anyone. That part of me is effectively shut off until further notice.” Kei says decisively. 

“I know that’s not true, but fine. And the other parts of you are still getting back to working order? Getting better?”

Kei nods, like Tadashi can see him, then hums a response. It’s been a process, but yes, pieces are flickering back to life. 

“Good. Now get some good sleep. A full eight hours! Minimum! I’ll text you lake pictures.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I will.”

Kei grunts in reply.

“Love you, too.” Tadashi laughs. 

They end the call and Kei is left in his apartment. The overhead lamp fills the room with a harsh light. He misses the lamp they used to have on the side table, but it was Touma’s, as were most of their plates, their towels… Kei sighs. There are so many empty spaces in this apartment where furniture used to be. There are so many holes in his routine where his ex used to be. For three years he built his life around someone and everyone expects him to be able to build something new, something healthy, out of what’s left. 

Kei drops his phone on the floor and covers his eyes with both arms. He keeps having moments like this one, moments where he swears he can watch his own body lying there like a sad idiot and he wants to slap himself, but it’s so much more comfortable to just… not. Not anything. He thinks about reading, but his book is all the way in his bedroom. He thinks about cleaning, but that’s already done. That was the first thing he reclaimed when he finally starting taking care of himself again. He turns on his TV and then closes his eyes.

He thinks, not for the first time, about getting a cat.


	2. What's a few years between friends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei mopes, talks to Hinata/Yachi/Kageyama, meets up with friends, and sees Kuroo again.

On Saturday, Kei wakes up without his alarm just before ten. He congratulates himself for waking up at a time with a single digit unlike the past several weekends. He yawns and feels for the second layer of blanket he must have discarded during the night. Propping himself up on his elbow and slipping over the edge of the bed, he reaches down to the floor before flopping the ugly, beige, but incredibly warm blanket back over himself. Sure, spring has sprung, but for Kei Saturdays are now meant for staying in bed as warm as possible, until the point of sweating if it can be arranged, for as long as possible. 

He grabs his phone off of his nightstand settles back into his nest. He holds it up close to his face to see. Glasses are for later. Sure enough, there are photos from Tadashi, but only a few. Kei knows he forced himself to hold back and not spam him all night long. He knows the rest are on instagram anyway. 

The first two are just photos of the house and the lake behind it. It’s the kind of place Kei wouldn’t mind waking up to on a Saturday morning. It looks still, like from the moment you pulled in, you could ignore time and noise as long you wanted. 

The rest are selfies of Tadashi, faces growing sillier with each photo. A “check out this view” selfie, with one arm spread wide across the vista behind him. A “look what I’m making for dinner” selfie, his face much too close to a pan of vegetables on a stove. An “it’s cold, so look how many blankets I put on” selfie. Kei snorts.

Kei>> it’s cold here, too

He types and snaps a picture of himself in his blankets up to his nose. 

Kei looks at the last photo again. Just eight weeks ago, Tadashi would’ve probably been here at his place on a Saturday morning, the two of them sleeping off whatever they’d gotten into the night before.

Some mornings they were sleeping off a night out after Tadashi dragged him out of his apartment and Kei consumed far too much liquid courage. Other mornings they were sleeping off a night of staying in and staying up until light started to creep through the windows, the two of them on his couch watching the worst sci fi movies they could find, the kind that Tadashi swore made him dumber every time one finished. 

After Touma left, Tadashi practically moved in, at least on the weekends. Kei needed the company, but also, they could both feel Tadashi’s impending move rapidly approaching. His international move was one thing when they were both comfortable, when they both had found someone who made them feel happy and safe, and they were embarking on their next chapters together, if far apart. 

It was another thing entirely when Kei was blindsided by a break up he didn’t see coming and his safety net was still planning on moving to another country to be with the person he loved. 

Kei feels a familiar weight start to spread through his body. It starts in his chest and spreads to his arms, then his legs. By the time his phone slips out of his hand onto his bed, he feels the heaviness in his fingertips and toes. He closes his eyes and Tadashi’s selfies and memories start to blur together until he lets go and falls back asleep.

When he opens his eyes again, it’s past eleven. He picks up his phone to see that there’s far too many new notifications waiting for him.

Hinata>> Good morning! we’re gonna be in tokyo next week we should all hang

Kageyama>> I’m coaching

Hinata>> yea yea yea but I’m free except for when I’m watching your team play but mostly free  
Hinata>> I miss you guys

Yachi>> I’ll be here!  
Yachi>> What days?

Hinata>> the whole weekend!  
Hinata>> getting in on friday night  
HInata>> but like really late  
Hinata>> tobio is coming early on the team bus but I’m taking, like, the last shinkansen down after I get stuff prepped for the next week at school  
Hinata>> and get the dog set up at kennel and make the house clean and eat something  
Hinata>> so Saturday?

Yachi>> Saturday is good! I might have something that night, but I’d happily cancel.  
Yachi>> I miss you guys, too!

Kei scrolls past an extended conversation between Yachi and Hinata about their weeks, Kageyama chiming in when he can before he replies. 

Kei>> Sure, Saturday works.

Hinata>> Saltyshima!  
Hinata>> Glad to hear from you. You’re alive and now I know that because you actually replied to one of my texts  
Hinata>> finally 

Yachi>> Yay, we’ll be back together!  
Yachi>> Except for Tadashi. How’s he doing?  
Yachi>> I’ve done a bad job keeping in touch so far...

Hinata>> he’s good! I talked to him a few days ago he likes his new job things are good

Kei>> he’s on vacation this weekend

Kei smirks, thankful he still knows more about Tadashi than Hinata. There were times when he wondered. 

He sets the phone down on his bed and puts it on vibrate. He peeks at the messages as they roll in, but he focuses most of his energy on pushing himself out of bed. He peels off one layer of blanket, then the next two. He sits up and swings his feet over the bed and breathes deeply. In and out, holding his breath for exactly seven seconds after he’s filled his lungs and letting it out slowly. His finally lets his feet touch the cold floor and the sensation makes him more alert. 

He shuffles his bare feet on the floor to the bathroom to finish the process, then shuffles back to get dressed right away. He knows the longer he stays in pajamas, the less likely he is to leave the house. He’s careful to not throw anything on the floor, but instead reminds himself to put it all in the hamper, then make his bed. He walks around his apartment opening every blind. It’s cloudy out, but there’s sunshine peeking through.

Kei knows these rituals are everything right now. If he can keep his floor clean, if he can open the windows, then he’s ready to tell himself that he’s doing great today. He’s on track. It might be nearly noon, but he’s out of bed, he’s dressed, and he’s going to eat something.

He fries an egg, sets it on top of microwavable rice, and makes a cup of instant coffee, leaves it black, before settling back into his own body’s impression on the couch. He never sits on the other side. 

 

***

 

“Wait, so I hear some eerie screaming and now I have to take damage? That’s some bullshit. I’m going to be dead soon.” Tsukishima and his friends share another round of laughter at the expense of someone who just can’t draw any decent cards. 

He gets up from the table and another friend holds up an empty glass. “Fill it up again?” 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” Kei shoots back, but he takes the glass and sets it on the corner of the table. “When I get back. And only because mine is empty, too.”

Saturday game nights have been a weekly occurrence since college. This group is all engineers that started hanging out in Kei’s sophomore year. They’ve all met his high school friends at one point or another, especially Tadashi who was somewhat of a regular on Saturday nights, but this group exists outside of who he was. It’s part of the Kei he became when he left Miyagi and started over in Tokyo, when he tried to shed off some layers of teenage angst and replace them with some perspective. He tried to picture who he could be, not just who he had been. 

Ultimately, little had changed and, looking back, he’s glad for it. For so long he assumed people liked him _despite_ his demeanor. It took a few years, but it turns out some people actually _liked_ it. 

Touma had been one of those people. Touma had been part of this group. 

He still was, after all. When Kei walks back, a brief hush falls over the conversation before the next sentence delivered is vague and empty of details. He knows what it means. He picks up both glasses from the table and walks over to the kitchen, allowing them to get back to reminiscing over whatever they did with his ex last night. 

Kei sets his head against the cool fridge door before opening it. He doesn’t blame them. They were friends with both of them. Of course it didn’t end just because they did. He got game night and some dinners out. Touma got, well, everything else. He was always on the socially outgoing end of the nerd spectrum. For three years Kei was willingly shoved into clubs he never would have entered on his own and events like pottery making nights he never would have chosen but ended up enjoying anyway. 

There are hints of those years all over his friend’s place. Naturally, none of them felt the need to forcefully remove any photographic evidence that Touma had ever existed from their homes. So, there he was, staring back at Kei from crappy purikura pictures on the fridge and the nicer, framed photos in the living room. 

He comes back and settles into the game again, beer in hand. “What’d I miss?”

“Only that I fell through the floor to the basement and Eiko found a homunculus in the attic.”

“Aw, I like him! He gives me a strength bonus and I’ve named him Sam.” His friend scrunches up her body to look like a hunchback and gurgles some strange sounds.

He laughs and lets it all go. Kei might not believe that there’s a winner in a break up, but there’s definitely a loser. He doesn’t want to lose this anymore.

 

***

 

On Thursday, Kuroo returns to the office. He’s even more well-dressed than his previous visit. The casual blazer has been replaced with an actual suit, complete with a solid crimson tie. 

With his clear view of the entrance from his desk, Kei watches him swiftly get swept into a conversation with his boss and pushed into his office. His boss’ awkward business laugh is loud, but somehow Kuroo’s is louder. It’s nothing like the laugh he heard last Friday or the ones he remembers from high school. It’s low and forced, like it’s screaming out, “look at how professional and in control of this situation I am! I am so comfortable with everything that is happening!”

Kei settles back into his desk chair to continue editing a project bid before it’s sent off to the city. Or rather, sent off to someone above him, then his boss, then potentially off to the city. In between correcting grammatical errors and revising the tone to sound more persuasive, he taps his pen on the arm of his chair and peers around his cubicle at his boss’ door. 

Somehow, editing and improving technical language doesn’t seem to hold the whole of his attention. The back of his mind is running conversational scenarios in case Kuroo sees him and they talk. It’s a cacophony of “if… then…” statements running on a loop, constantly improving until they’re potentially ready for use in the world. 

When Kuroo finally emerges from the office, though, it’s with a bow and some obligatory polite words before he turns to leave. He catches Kei’s gaze and throws him a sideways smile and a slight nod then continues out the front door.

He didn’t prepare for that. 

Kei slouches into the hard back of his office chair and spins the pen in his hand. Wouldn’t the normal thing have been to at least say ‘hello’ and exchange small talk? He had a list of acceptable topics ready to go. Should he have stood up to say something? Why was this so weird? They talked for a couple of hours last Friday. He asked Kei to save his number! 

Then again, he never did text that number. He let it sit there in his phone because what was there to say? 

He sits up straight and sets the pen down, chewing his bottom lip. He glances at the clock on his computer and is pleased to find it’s nearly time for his lunch. Like always, he hasn’t brought anything, but the convenient store down the street benefits from his constant company. 

After sending the edited document and replying to a few more emails, Kei straightens the items on his desk and grabs his bag to go. Out of habit and a desire to not speak to anyone on his dash to the door, he takes out his phone. There are six texts from the same number waiting for him.

Kuroo~(=^–^)>> you headed to lunch soon?  
Kuroo~(=^–^)>> I don’t have another meeting until 3  
Kuroo~(=^–^)>> all dressed up and no place to be! Haha  
Kuroo~(=^–^)>> sorry I didn’t say hey up there  
Kuroo~(=^–^)>> figured you like to keep work and life as separate as possible  
Kuroo~(=^–^)>> don’t need them asking why you know the weird art guy, right? 

He stops short of the door and considers his reply. He keeps it simple.

Kei>> on my way to lunch now, still upstairs

Kuroo~(=^–^)>> alright, I’m just outside the main doors to the lobby downstairs 

Kei turns off his screen and pockets his phone but doesn’t take a step forward. He reaches back in his coat pocket, unlocks his phone, sighs, then puts it away again. 

Outside, Kuroo is leaning against the stone facade of his building, his eyes closed. 

“Hey.” Kei announces his arrival, stopping a few paces away from him. 

Kuroo’s eyes open and he yawns, pushing himself off the wall with his back. “Hey! You actually came outside. You hungry?”

Kei shrugs. “Are we getting lunch together?” He asks plainly.

“I think that was heavily implied, especially since this is the only way I can get a hold of you - accosting you at your place of business.” Kuroo grins wide and right then Kei sees it, all of it, that same third year blocker with the deep voice and the pushy personality that he couldn’t bring himself to hate no matter how much he tried. 

Kei takes a few steps forward, but carefully maintains his passive tone. “Clearly not, you texted me, after all. How’d you have my number, anyway? I never texted you back.”

“Ouch, rubbing salt in an open wound.” He mocks a pained expression and clutches his chest with one hand. Then he relaxes back to normal, taking a step to close the gap between them. “I still had your number from before. Never got rid of it.” His voices lowers. “Thought I might need it again someday.” 

The reminiscing runs deeper, to the times when Kuroo was not quite a friend, not quite a boyfriend, but occupied a space in between where there were occasional releases of hormonal energy and a tremendous amount of late-night texting about things he didn’t even tell Tadashi. 

“You look pretty suspicious, you know,” Kei changes the subject, “standing out here, taking a nap against a building, looking like,” he raises one eyebrow, “this.”

Kuroo laughs. “You stand outside almost anywhere in Japan with all these tattoos looking like you don’t have anything to do and people assume you’re in the mob. It’s beneficial. And awful.” He throws his arms around while he talks. “Beneful? … no that just sounds like it’s full of benefits. Awficial. Nope. Benebad. It’s benebad looking like this brand of handsome devil sometimes.”

Kei rolls his eyes skyward and starts walking down the sidewalk. 

Kuroo takes a few steps to catch up. “What do you normally do for lunch?”

Kei points to the convenient store on the corner, several store fronts down the street. “Meat buns, onigiri, spaghetti, or just a bag of chips - a perfectly balanced meal everyday, right down the street.” 

“So do you still eat like a tiny bird?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“You know,” he changes his voice from his usual animated tone to one more flat, deadpan, “I’ll have some plain rice, one tomato, and a piece of lettuce. It’s quite enough.”

“I was never like that.”

“Fine,” he stretches his arms, “as long as you’re taking care of yourself now.”

Kei nearly stops walking, mentally choking on the last few words, but his brain reminds his feet to keep moving after the quick misfire. 

“Kenma hardly ate anything either.” Kuroo continues, noticing nothing. “On my morning runs I always went by his house and I used to stop in and made sure he ate breakfast.”

“So are you still an overbearing mother hen?” Kei mirrors back. 

“You know, I try, but they make it so difficult for me now. I’ve had to find new friends that I see everyday to guide through life with my incomparable wisdom.”

Kei smirks and looks away when he sees the pleased look on Kuroo’s face. He’s never known anyone else to be this proud of their ability to make a dumb comment. 

A silence settles in for the last stretch to the store and Kei doesn’t feel the need to fill it. Typically, he’d let an awkward silence hang in the air regardless, just to prove a point about unnecessary talking, but this doesn’t feel as strange as he expected. He supposes it’s the same as how Kuroo shoved his way into his life seven years ago at that first training camp, like he’d always had a place behind the barbed-wire fence that kept Kei from the rest of the world.

Back outside, they lean against the bike rack, taking out the delicious sodium-filled garbage they’ve just purchased between bouts of conversation. Kuroo asks Kei about work and then dives into rich details about all of the clients he’s working with now, from the oddly boring (like Kei’s boss) to the just plain odd (like the dentist who was way too specific about the level of teeth he needed visible in wall hangings). 

Kuroo does most of the talking, with a full mouth, at that. 

“Just yesterday you popped up in one of those ‘memories’ things on my feed.” Kuroo scrolls through his phone, his greasy thumb sliding over the screen. “See?” He hands it over to Kei. “That was when you came to Tokyo right before your first year started. You look so young and innocent.” 

Kei looks at the picture and almost forgets to scowl. Almost. But he finds it tougher to reply the way he wants to when looks at the two of them, Kei forced into a selfie he didn’t want to take. 

He remembers the day instantly. Trying to make a few last-minute arrangements before the start of his first term, he’d come down for the weekend with his mom and Tadashi. Somehow, between the errands and his mother’s fretting, he’d been able to slip away with Tadashi to meet up with Kuroo, and later, Bokuto and Akaashi, too. His best friend had also found convenient times to be busy, leaving Kuroo and Kei alone to slip back into old habits. Stupid, so stupid, Kei thought, but fun. 

“Am I supposed to reply to a comment like that?” He asks, passing his phone back. 

“Tsukki, you can reply any way you’d like to.” He laughs again then pauses thoughtfully. “Honestly, I’m just really glad I ran into you again.”

Kei finds his voice easing into more comfortable territory. “Yea, me too.” He stares dead ahead at the passing cars on the busy street in front of them. “I guess.”

Kuroo pushes off the bike rack to stand up again. Kei watches him shift his weight back and forth a few times until he turns back around. “So, why do you think we lost touch? I’ve been thinking about it since last Friday.” 

The earlier ease is immediately gone. Kei’s also thought about this since last week. He doesn’t have a good answer. He’s tried to think back, but he comes up short everytime. Kei got caught up in his new life. Kuroo had already established his. They were at different schools with different majors and different friends. The calls and texts became just texts. Then daily texts became more of a weekly occurrence. Before he knew it they were just sending birthday messages on facebook or pressing like on a few posts here and there. Then life took some turns and it got too awkward to do anything. “We both got wrapped up in what we were doing?” He offers. 

“Yea, no, that makes sense. It happens.” And even Kei can hear the briefly broken tone before Kuroo grins again. “And anyway, what’s a few years between friends?” He jovially slaps Kei on the back.

Unprepared, his glasses slip down and he pushes them back up. He holds the word ‘friend’ in his mind as tight as he can. He needs that even if he doesn’t always feel like he deserves that. “Ouch, is that still how you handle your friends?”

“Oh yea! Bo and me still play ‘punchies’ all the time. We’re pretty evenly matched.” Kuroo flexes his arm and laughs. 

Kei can still feel the leftover tension, but he softly laughs and rolls his eyes the way he remembers laughing with Akaashi when Bokuto and Kuroo acted like overgrown children. 

“Plus, some of my friends I handle very differently.” Kuroo leans back onto the bike rack his arm brushing against Kei’s and remaining there. “So, will you use my number this time or will I just have to bother you at work again?”

 

***

 

On his train ride home on Friday, Kei jostles in the tight crowd, shutting his eyes for as long as he can before the doors open and he has to watch out as a mass of tired people exit and enter the train. If he could imagine a happy place, he would, but he closes his eyes and just sees work or he closes his eyes and all it does is heighten his ability to smell the sweat stains on the blazer on the man next to him. When the doors open, he relishes the rush of air right before people shove their way past him.

Three stops left… two stops left… one stop left… home. 

On the platform, Kei keeps pace with the overworked hoards until he ducks into a convenient store to grab dinner and a beer - not the cheapest one, but the one thirty yen more than the cheapest one. He nods in approval in the checkout line. He’s definitely taking care of himself.

Back outside, he turns down a couple streets and the train crowd thins, giving way to narrower streets filled with far fewer people. Kei passes the little shops that line his road - a pharmacy that only ever has the oldest people he’s ever seen inside, a hardware store he swears is never open, and a flower and trinket shop with the woman who waves to everyone (he waves back). 

He turns right and passes the junior high school near his apartment and hears the shouts of students in their clubs outside. A stray soccer ball springs over the gate just in front of him and he stops short. A boy runs out to get it immediately, looks up at him and bows, muttering something about being very sorry, sir, he hope he didn’t hit him, sir. 

And Kei sees himself through his eyes. Another man that lives in the neighborhood. A stranger without a name. A man coming home from work with tired eyes, a heavy bag slung over his shoulder and a convenient store bag draped over one arm. Just some boring adult. 

Kei takes out his phone and keeps walking, not minding his steps because he’s walked this way so many times and knows exactly where all the holes in the pavement are. He scrolls through his messages, reminding himself to finally reply to the seemingly endless text chain that occured between Hinata and Yachi while he was working, before reaching the one he was looking for. 

His fingers pause over the screen. A “hey” opens up the conversation to too many unknowns and leaves the receiver with an obligation to keep the conversation going, he figures, And something boring will leave himself open to ridicule. 

As he turns onto his street he stops walking to type a message that he’s decided is good enough to send to Kuroo, just to prevent any comments about not texting the next time he sees him at work.

Kei>> Have a good weekend. Don’t be too dumb.

Then he changes the contact name from Kuroo~(=^–^)>> to just Kuroo. He can’t believe he left it like that for so long. 

Satisfied, he locks his phone screen and walks past the rows of bikes outside his apartment building. He takes the metal and concrete stairs two at a time up to the third floor and tries to ignore the vibration in his hand, but outside his door, he looks. 

Kuroo>> Aw, thanks! You too. And don’t worry, I’ll be super dumb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh buddy, I wanted this up about a week ago, but I ended up re-writing the conversation between Kuroo and Tsukki about, erm, 4,000 times. 
> 
> I was absolutely blown away by the wonderful comments on the last chapter. You are all TOO GOOD. I kept you all in mind as I revised again and again. I hope you enjoy this chapter, too!
> 
> I'm expecting updates to come every week or every two weeks on Wednesday-ish. I'm telling you so that it becomes a promise that I try to keep.  
> (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ


	3. You're exhausting to look at.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei hangs out with the first year crew, sends a lot of texts, and meets up with Kuroo at an art event (and maybe has a Feeling).

“It’s nice being back in Miyagi. The weather is better and the air doesn’t smell weird like, well, this. Plus, I get to live in my boyfriend’s house. A whole house! It’s so much bigger than the shoebox I lived in here.” Hinata’s still talking, but he’s eyeing the waitress every time she leaves the kitchen, a pattern of anticipation followed by disappointment on repeat across his face. 

By the time Kei got there, Yachi and Hinata were already sitting in a booth towards the back of one of Hinata’s old favorite places. He hates being late, but he gives himself some credit. He got out of bed. He’s out with people. He’s actually happy about it.

“Speak for yourself. I’ve never moving back. I’ll take a shoebox in Tokyo over a house back in Miyagi any day.” Kei adds. 

“I’m with Tsukishima on this one. Once I overcame the initial crippling anxiety of moving here, I loved it. There’s just so many people.” Yachi says animatedly. “At first that made me meltdown almost daily, but then I realized, no one’s paying any attention to you. You can trip like an idiot in the middle of a train station and no one even looks. It’s amazing.” 

Hinata looks partially horrified and partially sympathetic. “You wouldn’t want someone to stop and help you?”

“No way!” Yachi defends. “I want the whole world to pretend they never see any of my mistakes.”

Kei subtly nods and Yachi laughs. “See, Tsukishima gets me. Headcase buds forever.”

The name takes Kei back. When he found out Yachi was going to the same university, he figured they say ‘hello’ if they ran into each other, maybe grab a coffee once per term, but he didn’t expect anything more. The first year group had bonded, sure, probably because Hinata and Tadashi were so hell-bent on making them all best friends, but also because they had gone through a lot as a group.

What he hadn’t expected was accidentally discovering Yachi in the middle of a full-blown panic attack during their freshman orientation in an empty hallway. He remembers being stunned and unsure of what to do until she looked up and he knew that look. He’d been there enough times. 

Kei flopped against the wall next to her and after saying, “it sucks, doesn’t it,” just sat next to her until the worst of it passed. They didn’t become best friends or anything, they ran in very different circles, but Yachi was a welcome addition as an understanding listening ear throughout the lowest parts of every semester. 

He regrets not talking to her as much since graduation. 

“You two got really cute without me arou -- food’s here!” Hinata rejoices, greedily accepting his plate. “I’ve missed this place so much. Nobody’s curry rice tastes like it does here.” And Hinata looks like he’s in heaven as he shoves his face close to his plate and breathes. “I’ll give Tokyo some points.” He concedes as he digs in.

The conversation follows predictable patterns. How’s work? What have you been doing on the weekends? Remember that one time you did something really stupid and hilarious? We’ll never forget. 

Hinata shows picture after picture of their new dog, a shiba inu mix. There’s Kageyama teaching the new puppy to high five. There’s Hinata laying down on the floor as he’s covered in puppy kisses. The domestic bliss is sugary sweet and Kei stuffs the jealous part of him trying to crawl out back down deep. 

The conversation flows easily and it’s comfortable, but Kei feels Tadashi’s absence. It’s 4:30am in London, so there’s no way he could vidchat him into the conversation. 

“I’m giving up on all of that right now. I’m not good at it.” Yachi laments as the inevitable “seeing anyone?” question surfaces. Hinata knows all about Touma, first from Tadashi and then from Kei himself when Hinata called him, concerned and ready to buy a train ticket back to Tokyo if he needed him, so the question is more directed at Yachi than him. 

Kei throws her a knowing and exasperated look. “Same. Forever, same. Not all of us are as lucky as Mr. Sunshine.” 

Hinata laughs loudly. “Do you two even know how many times Tobio tried to break up with me? Probably hundreds of times.” He gestures wildly over his second plate of curry rice. “And every time I’d march over to his apartment, bang on his door, and yell at him until we had great make up sex on every --”

“Ugh, we don’t need all the details.” Kei grimaces. He does not need a mental image of that burned into his brain. 

“Speak for yourself. I’ve been actionless for months.”

“Fine, then I’ll remove myself from this conversation.” Kei starts to scoot out of the booth.

“Okay, I’ll stop, Prudeshima.” Kei raises an eyebrow and Hinata makes a face. “But the point still stands. It wasn’t easy for me either. It’s not like you meet the right person and then, BAM, everything’s perfect. You’re both great. It’ll work out.”

Hinata, the forever optimist, but not a lazy one. When Hinata wants something, he fights for it with an unmatchable tenacity. He wanted to go to Nationals, so he did everything he could to make it happen. He wanted to play volleyball at the university level, so he worked with the other first years to get his grades up in his second year. He wanted Kageyama in his life bad enough that he didn’t quit until he had it. 

“It’s not… I know, but like, I don’t even know what I want.” Yachi stutters, pushing around the leftover bits on her plate. 

“You just need to find Kiyoko-san again.” Kei teases. 

Hinata howls as Yachi playfully jabs Kei in the side, growing redder. She groans, “Oh yea, ‘cause that will end so smoothly. I’ve handled myself so well in the past.”

“But really, Yachi, you’re one in a kajillion,” Hinata responds, “and when you stop trying to hide that the people who get to see it love you so much! And you,” he turns to Kei, speaking through a mouthful of rice, “You act cold and mean, but you’re smooshy and good. You’re gonna bounce back.”

Hinata, the will-suck-you-up-into-his-positivity forever optimist. 

“Ah!” Hinata jumps in his seat and starts to wave. Expecting to see Kageyama, Kei turns around but is surprised to see Kenma walking into the restaurant. “Kenma! You’re here!”

Hinata babbles on as Kenma gets closer and Kei swears that the instant Kenma shifts his glance to meet his gaze, his schooled expression changes. For a moment, Kenma’s eyes narrow and his lips are drawn into a thinner line before he releases everything back to normal. 

 

***

 

Sunday night, Kruoo texts him a gif of a kid getting smacked in the face with a volleyball.

Kuroo>> remember all those times hinata received the ball with his face?  
Kuroo>> like one time, sure, what a cool mistake  
Kuroo>> but he practically made it a signature move

Kei>> if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it

Kuroo>> true

Kei>> because his face was already busted

Kuroo>> haaaaaaaaaaa but aw that’s mean  
Kuroo>> plus I already know you’re good friends  
Kuroo>> Kenma told me about lunch on Saturday  
Kuroo>> the youths all hanging out together, a sweet little reunion 

Kei>> you’re still only two years older than me

Kuroo>> mentally, I’m so much older and wiser  
Kuroo>> physically, I’d still be able to best you

Kei stares back at his phone, recalling Kuroo leaning back against the bike rack letting their arms touch as he remarked on treating some friends differently. 

Some patterns never changed. Kuroo makes a comment. He waits for Kei’s retort. He triumphantly replies, regardless of what Kei says. 

He plays along.

Kei>> good thing I’m still taller

And if this were the past, Kei knows how the pattern would play out. Repeat until sufficiently riled up. Release in the form of several messy minutes in secluded parts of public places. 

Kuroo>> good thing I do so well with what I got

Kei locks his phone screen and sets it next to him on the couch, face down. He turns up the volume on his TV and pulls a soft grey blanket on top of him. He rests his head on a lumpy throw pillow, face turned to stare at the stark white ceiling, a round of canned laughter from the TV filling the air. His phone vibrates under the blanket and he looks at it and sighs, nudging it away with his foot until it slips off the couch onto the floor.

 

***

 

A week and a half passes with no visits from Kuroo at work. Kei forgets most of the time. They’ve won a few smaller bids for projects throughout the city and he’s put on a team planning the most efficient piping routes for a new development on the outskirts of town. It keeps his mind busy and with less time to sit and ruminate in his own thoughts, he can sometimes feel the fog in his mind clear a little. 

As the weather starts to grow warmer and the trees bloom down both sides of the street, he thinks about eating his convenience store lunch outside, but he feels so awkward standing there alone. Instead, he sits at his desk, hunched over a full bag of chips or a plastic plate of spaghetti that the overly cheerful cashier heated for him, and stares at his phone. 

There’s always a flood of messages in the first year group text chain. He swears none of them actually works. How can Hinata and Yachi have a full-blown conversation at ten in the morning? He chimes in when he can, especially when Kageyama shows up to drop a comment and disappear again. Those are the best.

Kei scrolls through the rest of his recent messages. He can’t text and ask when Kuroo will be here next. That crosses way too many lines. But he is curious.

They’ve texted throughout the week, short little bits, usually started by Kruoo sending some picture he’s found. It’s nice to have someone who’s not constantly asking him, “how are you doing?” with that look in their eyes. 

When Kei leaves yet another meeting where no one accomplished anything other than talking in circles, he sees two men unloading heavy-looking, rectangular packages wrapped carefully in layers of cloth and paper. As his boss opens the first one, he sees a artistic rendition of the Rainbow Bridge in Tokyo Bay at night. The colors are far too saturated for his tastes and he hopes it won’t be hung in his eyeline.

He looks back at several similar packages in the lobby. Everything’s been delivered, he realized. Kuroo has no reason to come any longer. 

Kei walks back to his desk slowly and reopens everything he was working on. His brows are knitted tight on his forehead. He notices that he’s chewing his lip and stops, rearranges his keyboard and adjusts his chair. He repeats this dance a few times before he’s able to lose himself in work again. 

The sun is starting to set when he finally steps onto the train platform at his home station. He walks the whole way home fidgeting with his phone in his hand. Once inside, he goes through his routine, setting his shoes, bag, and coat precisely where they need to be, before sending a message. 

Kei>> no more bothering me at work, I take it?

He sets his phone down on his kitchen counter before walking back to his bedroom to change. Clothes in the hamper. Sweats in a neatly folded pile at the end of his bed. Changed and comfortable, he falls onto his bed, legs off the edge, and yawns. Somehow, it’s only Tuesday. He closes his eyes and stays like that, tall legs stretched to the floor, the rest of his body too tired to either get up and make food or curl up onto the bed and actually sleep. 

Finally, he decides to get up but it’s not without some internal encouragement. Kei chuckles to himself when he notices that his inner positive voice sounds exactly like Tadashi. 

In his kitchen, he picks up his phone to see two new messages.

Kuroo>> oh good, everything got delivered fine - another job done! Didn’t mess up!  
Kuroo>> aw, you gonna miss me?

Kei>> nah

The reply comes several minutes later when Kei is heating leftover rice in a pan to make fried rice with a bag of frozen vegetables. 

Kuroo>> well, if you come to your senses, I’ve got an art share coming up  
Kuroo>> it’s kinda of like an art show, but like, it’s a program where (rich AF) people pay up front to get pieces from “emerging artists”  
Kuroo>> they get to feel charitable and I get to make rent  
Kuroo>> and as a bonus I get to stand in front of a bunch of people and sound like a dork

Kei>> like always

Kuroo>> exactly. See? You’d love it  
Kuroo>> plus free booze and snacks

Kei>> when?

Kuroo>> thursday - 7pm  
Kuroo>> you coming?

Kei>> maybe

But Kei knows he’s already decided. 

He sits down on his couch and turns on the tv, balancing his plate on his lap. Before digging in, he sends one more text. This time it’s for Tadashi.

Kei>> on a scale from 1 to 10, how stupid am I allowed to be right now?

 

***

 

“You are allowed to be incredibly stupid right now, if you want to be.” Tadashi had said on Wednesday night when Kei called him on his lunch break. “You’ve kind of earned it. Just be healthy and safe and happy and fine and stupid and have some fun or something. Just know that I’ve earned a full report on whatever made you ask me that.”

On the train heading towards the venue Kuroo had sent him, Kei did feel stupid, but not the kind he had meant earlier. He got dressed on autopilot this morning and was regretting his clothing choices. There was definitely no time to go home and change, so he was stuck in a plain, light blue button down with rolled up sleeves because no store ever made anything long enough for his arms. 

He looks at his reflection in the train window and grimaces at his look’s similarity to his waitstaffing days, with his plain black tie and black pants. He’s grateful for the pea coat he’d grabbed on his way out. At least that addition makes him look like he just might belong somewhere. 

Kei counts the number of stops between him and his destination. He checks the time on his phone and purses his lips. At any point, he could still go home. No harm done. 

He types an excuse. Erases it. He types an excuse coupled with a dig at Kuroo’s artistic ability. Erases it. He locks the screen and taps his fingers along the back. The motivation to go felt so clear a few days ago, but it’s vanished. Instead Kei’s mind is filled with questions that he can’t answer, the kind that dig into every insecurity he carries with him until his heart rate has picked up and his palms feel sweaty. 

Kei>> running a little behind

He sends the text before he can erase it. It’s not even the truth. He just wants to buy himself, what, a few extra minutes to sit at the train station and brood? 

But he thanks himself the moment he takes a seat outside the station on a bench with peeling paint beside a vending machine. He takes a few deep breaths, doing his best to ignore the passing commuters. He waits for his fingers to stop drumming on any surface they touch, for his foot to stop tapping. 

With his chest still tight, he starts to repeat all of the dumb things Tadashi gives him to tell himself. The affirmations sound ridiculous, but Kei repeats them over and over, if only just to hear his friend’s voice in his head reminding him that people like him, people love him, that he is enough. Sometimes saying them is enough to make him laugh at the absurdity of the situation. 

The walk is entirely too short for him to feel settled once again and once he’s inside he feels at least a decade too young and several stock portfolios too broke to be there. A man that looks older than him offers to take his coat and before he can even protest it’s been gently taken and hung up next to coats without the fabric pilling and, what is that, a fur? 

There’s more normal looking people around, too, but there is definitely no sign of Kuroo. Another man stops him and he has to give his name and wait while the man finds him on a long list. Then, he’s given a name tag sticker, of all things, “so you can feel comfortable talking to the other patrons.” 

Kei walks past him and unlocks his phone. 

Kei>> here

He scans the open room, a wide space with white walls and very little art on display, spare a few sculptures on raised platforms throughout and some canvas paintings of various sizes spaced out on the walls. Some people jostle pass him holding wine glasses and he remembers one of the reasons he didn’t mind coming in the first place. 

Ignoring the confused glance he gets from a waiter and a knowing nod from another serving wine, Kei shoves several hor d'oeuvres down his throat before throwing back half a glass of wine. He’ll sip it later, when he wants to, he hopes his glare says as he accidentally makes eye contact with a few people around him.

He jumps at the feeling of a hand on the small of his back. “Oya, what do we have here?”

“Good evening, Kuroo-san.” Kei replies quickly as Kuroo walks around to Kei’s front, leaving his hand on his waist for just a little too long. He’s wearing a black button down, the top two buttons left irresponsibly open, and grey slacks with a hint of grid pattern. His sleeves are carefully rolled up, revealing tattoos of a paintbrush and some other tools on his right forearm and a cat just above his left wrist. 

He remembers the main reason he didn’t mind coming in the first place.

“You look tired and grouchy.”

“You’re exhausting to look at.” 

Old habits die hard. 

Kuroo announces that he’ll gladly take a break from “working the room” to show Kei around and introduce him to some of the other artists he knows. Kei lets himself be guided from one conversation to the next. He says very little the whole time as Kuroo introduces him as “my friend, Tsukishima,” before launching into a comfortable conversation with whomever he’s talking to, as if they’d been speaking all evening and he was simply keeping it going. 

Whenever Kei grows too quiet or tries to back his way out of the conversational circle, Kuroo escorts him back in with a gentle touch on his back. Each time he angles his way out of it. 

“From high school, huh? What was he like back then?” One of Kuroo’s friend’s asks. She’s shorter than Kei, but only just, and seems a few years older. She’s in a wine colored suit and had looked intimidating until Kuroo made her snort laugh. 

“Louder.” Kei replies as Kuroo spins around to pull more people into the conversation. 

“I don’t see how that’s possible.” She smiles wide. “Same school, or - ?”

“No, we both played volleyball,” and it’s like Kei can physically feel how immature the words must sound, “and our schools had this rival thing going, and -”

“And I taught him everything he knows and also we made out constantly.” Kuroo jumps back in with a cackle. 

“Yea, that sounds about right for you.” A shorter man joins the group, hitting Kuroo in the arm and then leaving it there, hand resting on Kuroo’s upper arm. 

Kei looks back at the woman. “I lived almost three hours away. Constantly is far from the correct word.” 

“Oh that’s way too far for this guy.” The shorter man is now leaning into Kuroo’s side. “He’s got the romantic memory of a goldfish. Here today, forgotten tomor-”

“Tsukishima-san seems like he’s much too fine of a gentleman to forget.” The woman glares across the circle. She raises an eyebrow and starts to walk away, leaning in for a whisper as she passes Kei. “Drink another glass and forget that idiot. We all hate him. Lovely to meet you.”

Kei looks back over and sees that Kuroo’s put a couple of steps between him and the shorter man. His tone is light but his body language is clear as Kei catches the tail end of their exchange. “--not the one who dropped his phone in the toilet at the last art share, so…” He twists on his heel. “Tsukki! Shall we? We’re just a couple minutes away from all of us getting to sound like we take ourselves very seriously and you need another glass of wine so you can properly ridicule me later.” 

Alone again a few minutes later, Kei finds a spot to stand where he can lean against the wall but still see the stairs where the artists are going to talk. The people around him have gathered in a tight semi-circle, all holding large black tote bags. Kuroo explained earlier that the partons pay a large upfront sum at the start of the year and then each month get pieces from artists in the community. As he said in his texts, they get to feel philanthropic and he gets extra rent money. 

He catches himself actually listening intently when the woman in the burgundy suit gets up to talk. She recently spent a few months back in her hometown, a place whose population has been steadily dwindling as the older people pass on and the younger generation leaves for bigger cities to pursue more opportunities.

She talks about the guilt she feels when she goes back, but also about the little details that make the place her forever home - the shinto shrine maintained by her former third grade teacher, the mountain behind her old elementary school with its sloping trails and wild boars, the dilaptated train station with very convenient train times (“Once every two to three hours!” The crowd laughs.). 

When she’s done everyone reaches into their bags and takes out her piece - a hand painted photograph in a small frame. Kei peers around other people’s shoulders, trying to see. An older woman in front of him smiles warmly up at Kei and angles hers so he can see. There’s a rice field with an old tractor in the bottom right corner. Everything is a mix of sharp black and white contrasts except for the sky, painted in saturated reds, yellows, and oranges that you’d never get to see in real life. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The woman comments to Kei.

He nods, still staring at the small piece of art. 

“Are you a member or --”

“No I’m just here as a guest.”

“Oh! Of one of the artists?” She asks, almost giddy. Her eyes crinkle when she asks the question. “Which one?”

“Kuroo Tetsurou.” He replies and she beams. 

“I’m very much looking forward to his.” She adds. “He was one of the ones I looked up online before I came. I think he’s towards the end, though.”

She’s right. Kei fades in and out of the artists’ speeches, but the woman keeps showing him the pieces each time. Some are small, like the photograph, others are larger, like an encaustic painting of multicolored concentric circles, and all are very different from the one that came before. 

When it’s Kuroo’s turn the older woman looks expectedly at him before turning back around. As he starts, his voice carries, like it always does, but it’s softer. Instead of the normal outbursts of cackling laughter and sly provocation, there’s a gentler cadence to the way he speaks. There’s still peaks and valleys, but it’s low and sloping, like taking a leisurely drive on a mountain road. 

Well, this is new. 

He talks about how all he ever wanted was be an athlete. And then study chemistry. Or maybe be a chef. And then take some physics. Or be a poet. He laughs as he recounts bouncing from one interest to the next until he realized he was just into everything, and “art,” he says, “is like getting to study everything all at once.” 

He can play volleyball and feel amazing after a spike and also take the feeling of that movement, of that power, and put it into a piece later. He can look at press releases from labs showing images of the movement of subatomic particles during a test and feel choked up because it’s so chaotic but perfect. 

Kuroo winds the story back around to the pieces he’s created for tonight. “Just like how I had a hard time finding something to study, I have a hard time sticking with one medium for too long.” He explains with a laugh that he started making woodblock prints after someone made a comment about the style being a dead art form. He took it as a challenge. 

He starts to keep talking but cuts himself off, “why hasn’t anyone told me to stop talking yet? This has gone on entirely too long. I’ll wrap it up like this - yes, there are only four different prints out there this evening, technically. I created four carvings, each bringing in something I find that I miss but can’t seem to get back to. So, there are a lot of repeats, but with each print I add something later that makes it unique. I invite you to compare with those around you to see what makes yours special.”

Before he’s done talking, people are unwrapping the small package marked with his name. The woman next to him tugs on Kei’s sleeve like she’s inviting him to be a part of her experience. When she finishes opening the smaller, cloth package, they’re looking at the back of a small wooden frame stamped with Kuroo’s kanji. 

She gently turns it over and Kei sees a familiar, if nostalgic scene, of a long stretch of stairs running through a temple market. Kei stutters at the details - the kanji on the signs, the print on a woman’s kimono, the shingles on the rooftops, the bright red of the lanterns. The stairs keep going farther and farther up but the imprint grows lighter and lighter until the top of the print is completely white. Kei imagines walking up the stairs forever, never quite knowing when he ceased to exist. 

The kind woman is speaking to him but Kei isn’t listening. The whole room seems to have grown nearly silent even though people’s mouths are moving quickly and people all around him are rustling through their bags. He looks up, but Kuroo has left the stairs already and the next artist is preparing to speak. His face and chest feel warm and he blames his second glass of wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not even kind of where I planned for this chapter to end. I started writing the art scene and it took on a mind of its own. They'll still be at that event at the start of ch 4. Woo!
> 
> Also, it's my spring break (YEA, go teach yourselves to read, children!), and I'm relishing the opportunity to write everyday. We'll see when the next chapter gets finished! (I wrote SO MUCH this past weekend, but it was all for events happening way in the future. Argh.)
> 
> As always, you all are amazing. Sometimes when I feel stuck I go back and read your comments and feel so encouraged.  
> (๑・ω-)～♥” Blesssssssss.


	4. Just where we left off?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei spends some more time with Kuroo at the art share, talks to Yamaguchi, and responds to a late-evening text message from Kuroo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday, sinnamon rolls! （；￣︶￣）

This time when he feels a hand graze his back and stay there, Kei doesn’t twist out of it.

“How’d I do?” Kuroo asks moving to face Kei, a grin forming at the corner of his mouth. He’s close and Kei blames the now very packed room. But he doesn’t miss how Kuroo’s hand lingers on his waist again before slipping away, just like he’s sure the source of that irritating grin is the fact that he didn’t abruptly angle out of Kuroo’s touch. “I went on and on for so long. I got up there, started talking, and then forgot where I was going.”

“Aw, but I thought rambling nonsense was your thing.”

“Clearly you were never around for my moving pregame speeches. Legendary.” 

Kei knows the rules are to keep the banter going, to have some clever retort, but his mind is blank. He thinks of Kuroo saying how art is a way of studying everything. He remembers how his breath caught when he looked at his art. Kei looks up into that dumb grin and can only think of short, but somehow kind things to say. He regroups as quickly as he can. “It was overall better than I expected from you.” 

“Was that a compliment? A backhanded one, but still…”

“You were right, though. You did go off on about a hundred tangents.”

Kuroo shrugs, leaning in just a little closer. “I must have been distracted.” He pauses. “Your cheeks are pink. How many glasses have you had?” 

“Enough.” Kei knows how to play their game. “You could probably use one. You seem a little jittery, Kuroo-san.” 

“Can’t. I’m working, but a little walk outside might not be a bad idea.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be around when you get back.” Kei offers flippantly, looking around the room. 

Kuroo smirks, but doesn’t reply. He turns and Kei feels that same hand on the small of his back. 

Once outside, Kei realizes with amusement that it actually might have been a bit warm in there. It’s still early spring and once the sun sets, a chill settles in over the city. It feels good to leave the noise behind. The building’s outdoor lamps illuminate a small garden patio, clearly more of a decoration than a functional space, and Kuroo is guiding him through it slowly, like they’re really on a walk, towards the corner of the building, filling every second with useless talking.

Around the corner, Kei stops walking and leans against the wall. “You know you can stop talking now.” His pulse quickens.

Kuroo stops and gets closer. “And you can stop me if I’ve read everything wrong, but - “ he leans in.

“You haven’t.” Kei tugs on the front of his shirt with one hand and closes the distance. Kuroo catches himself with a forearm on the wall behind him and the other arm wraps around his waist. The kiss starts slow but builds quickly, Kei willing himself to just let go for a minute and stop thinking.

He flattens his hand on Kuroo’s chest and raises his other to hold onto his neck and play with the small hairs at the nape, like he always used to. Kuroo’s tongue traces his bottom lip and Kei parts for him, letting a whisper of a moan escape. Kei missed having someone touch him like this. 

Kei pulls Kuroo closer and his back falls flush with the building. The new position forces Kuroo’s hand lower and lower along Kei’s back until its resting on his hip and their bodies to fall together. 

Kuroo breaks away and kisses a line down Kei’s jaw, down his neck, and back up, punctuating his movements with light bites along Kei’s skin. When he reaches Kei’s lips again, this time it’s Kei biting at Kuroo’s bottom lip, awaiting a warm welcome. He gets it and Kuroo’s fingers on Kei’s hip dig in a little deeper. 

With Kuroo’s body even against his own, Kei can feel the pounding in his chest, hard muscles moving under his shirt shirt all the way down to - Kuroo grinds down onto Kei, a soft growl entering the night air as he goes back to pay more attention to the sensitive skin on Kei’s neck. 

The phone in Kuroo’s back pocket vibrates and he grunts, ignoring it. Immediately after ending, it vibrates again. Then a voice calls out, “Kuroo - you out here?” 

Kuroo releases a gravelly sigh, breaking contact, and turning his head back towards the entrance. “Yea - I’ll be back in a minute!” 

He drops his forehead onto Kei’s shoulder. “Timing! Freaking timing.” He groans. “But I do need to get back in.” He picks up his head and leans back a little, still keeping his hand on Kei’s hip and their legs twisted together. “This is where I actually make my money, all the commissions I can get by smooth talking the wealthy.” He leans back in to kiss Kei again. “Can we pick this back up later?”

Kei’s entire body has one answer, but his mind is reeling with another. “I have to work tomorrow.”

Kuroo laughs and sucks in air through his teeth, “God, me too.” He takes a small step back, slipping his other hand to Kei’s waist. “But I’ll text you. Tomorrow?”

“I’ll see.” Kei looks off to the right, just past Kuroo’s line of vision. 

“Saturday?”

“I’ll see.”

“There’s my Tsukki. Glad that didn’t go anywhere.” Kei stands back up fully and Kuroo leans in. “You got a lot hotter, though.”

Kei shrugs off the comment and says, “Glad one of us did.” But Kei’s mind runs in the opposite direction, screaming hundreds of unkind things about all of his physical faults. He’s officially caught up in thinking again. Any chance of letting go again tonight is gone. 

“I was already perfect.” Kuroo starts to walk back, but Kei stays rooted in place. “You headed back in?”

“No, I’ll walk back to the station from here.” 

Kuroo pauses for a beat too long for Kei to not notice. “Good night, Tsukki.”

“Good night.” As Kuroo walks back, Kei remembers his coat is still inside and groans. He counts to thirty before taking a few steps towards the entrance, checking to make sure Kuroo is nowhere in sight. He swiftly ducks back in and taps his foot as the man at the coat check takes far too long to find his. 

Back outside, he breathes in deep, letting the night air creep into his lungs. He makes the short trek back to the station, battling a tidal wave of self-deprecating thoughts by trying to hold on to the image of Kuroo’s art in his mind and the feeling of Kuroo’s body against his own. 

Nearly back at his train station, Kei texts Tadashi. 

Kei>> you still at lunch?

The reply takes a few minutes.

Tadashi>> noooo, sorry!  
Tadashi>> in a meeting now, but I can open up our chat in a browser so it looks like I’m taking notes?  
Tadashi>> I want to know what’s going on! Everything ok?

Kei>> yea, nothing to worry about  
Kei>> but not something I want to type and have the words stare back at me  
Kei>> want to talk in the morning/your night?

Tadashi>> yes, always. So sorry!  
Tadashi>> I could say something about a family emergency in purposefully adorable broken English and they’ll let me go and take a call now

Kei>> it’s fine. Work hard. 

Tadashi>> ok, sleep well. Sweet dreams.

 

***

 

When his phone alarm goes off the next morning, he stirs enough from his restless sleep to find that his neck is tight and his back aches. He reaches towards his nightstand to turn it off and is confused when it’s not there - not just his phone but the whole piece of furniture. He moves to sit up, but gives up halfway through.

He fell asleep on the couch last night. 

His alarm sounds again and Kei slides his feet off the couch and sits up, rubbing his face roughly with both hands. He takes a few deep breaths and goes back to his bedroom to start opening his blinds in the correct order. He takes a look at his bed, rumpled and unmade, and sighs at the fact that his clothes for today aren’t where they should have been. 

The alarm goes off a third time and this time Kei remembers to shut it off, but a note below it reminds him of something else he has to do.

It’s just past 10:30pm in London. 

Back on the couch, Kei calls Tadashi. His best friend answers with a string of delighted greetings and Kei feels a smile tug on his lips as he responds in kind. 

“Staying up late, Tadashi?” Kei asks. “You have work in the morning, sir.”

“Maybe. I feel gross. My throat feels scratchy and I feel a weekend of blankets, tea, and naps ahead of me.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad plan. Sorry you’re sick, though.” 

They talk about work, about the new recipes Tadashi tried this week, and Kei watches the time on the clock across from him tick by. He switches to speaker phone and pries himself off the couch so he can get ready while they talk. 

“So…?” Tadashi sniffles on the other end. 

“So…” Kei throws on the first shirt he grabs from his closet. His pajamas don’t make it to the hamper. 

“Oh come on. I’ve been so patient.” The words tumble out quickly. “You said it wasn’t anything to worry about, but you asked me how stupid you could be and then I demanded - demanded, Tsukki - details on why. I have about a hundred theories, all more insane than the last. It’s Kuroo, right?”

“You’re not wrong.” Kei speaks through the toothpaste in his mouth. 

“Great? Great. Maybe great. I can’t decide, and anyway, I can’t judge. I always rebounded with the best of them. And you always did do a good job of making sure my rebounds weren’t too..” He trails off.

“Much of a mean sorority girl? Or a bro in a hawaiian shirt and a bowl cut?”

“It was not a bowl cut.”

“It absolutely was. You were too drunk to see.”

“And you saved me every time!” He laughs. 

“Do I need saving right now?” Kei asks with a smirk in his voice, but he knows the question doesn’t come out how he intended it to. There’s a weight to it.

“Not this time, no.” Tadashi’s voice tapers off, and Kei waits, leaving an open space for his friend to choose where he wants to go. “Before work isn’t the time for this. You’ve got the whole day ahead of you. And it’s Friday. It’s going to be a good day.”

“Don’t think so. I slept on the couch and my brain feels wrong this morning, like I can’t get a handle on anything again.”

“It’ll pass. We know it will. Are your windows open? Are you eating breakfast?”

“I know, just…” Kei pauses. “Yes to windows. No to breakfast. I’ll grab something on the way.” He adds the last part quickly. 

“I’m sorry it’s a ‘bad head’ day.” Kei can hear the smile in his friend’s voice and he swears he can see the look on his face through the miles between them. “Did something happen, or…”

“Nothing bad happened. I went to an art thing Kuroo did and it was fun. His stuff is pretty good, actually. It was kind of weird to see that side of him, but the rest was the same. We talk. We tease. We make out behind a building. Same old, same old.”

“Well, none of that sounds bad at all. See? Your mind is just being mean, plus, sleeping on the couch couldn’t help.”

“I guess,” Kei concedes, but he’s waiting to find words for the other feelings lingering from his restless night. “I just… I had a handle on things until Kuroo complimented me and then from the time I got on the train to the time I managed to shut it all up long enough to fall asleep, I listened to the sweet, sweet songs of my brain listing all my faults.”

“Your brain is an idiot sometimes. You’re perfect.”

“I’m really not, though.” And he can hear it all again. If the positive voice inside him sounds like Tadashi, then the negative voices are a mix of his own and every ex who’s ever left him, especially Touma. “I’m still just as mean and cold. Withholding.” 

“Wrong. You’re honest, you’re careful, and you’re sincere. I like you just the way you are.” Tadashi pauses. “And so do a whole lot of other people.”

Kei holds that sentiment in his mind as long as he can, but says nothing. “Thanks.” He manages after a while. “I have to go to work. It’s getting late.”

Tadashi doesn’t skip a beat. “I’m still up. Keep texting me your whole way there. And if you need a friend at lunch, you know I’ll wake up.”

“I know you will.” As they wrap up their conversation, Kei thinks of Tadashi’s laugh, the way he’d yell at him when he was being stupid, the way he’d thank Kei for cheering him up, but also the way he’s probably unfairly shouldered all of Kei’s burdens for too long. 

 

***

 

Kuroo>> want to come over?

At 10:30pm Friday night, Kei finds himself on a train dressed in jeans and a grey, zip up sweatshirt. He’s no stranger to the “let’s hang out” text message, but it’s been a few years, and he’d never taken public transportation for a hookup before. It feels too premeditated, not at all like a quick walk down to another student apartment complex. 

Kei clings to the window, scowling as a drunk business man hunkers down far too close on the seat next to him. The man groans loudly as he settles in and Kei presses his forehead into the cool glass. He chews his lip and turns up the music in his headphones, willing the next few stops to pass by more quickly.

When Kuroo opens the door, Kei’s stomach is tied in such tight knots he’s certain his voice is going to come out strange. And what should he even say? Thanks for inviting me over. I sure hope we skip talking and go straight to the whole reason I’m here. And might I just add, to make it extra awkward, that I’m still, somehow, not entirely sure I’ve read the situation correctly? He says nothing instead. 

“Welcome!” Kuroo slings the door open, backing up so Kei can enter. 

Kei steps in, wishing he had the courage to take over but he waits for Kuroo to take the lead. He takes off his shoes and enters the tiny apartment. As Kuroo turns on more lights, talking to Kei about how work went that day, Kei fights the urge to dart back out.

The entire place is a mess. By anyone else’s standards, it was probably okay, but to Kei, who worked hard to keep his home looking like a catalog, the place was chaos. Art supplies spill from shelves onto the floors. Specks of paint run up some of the walls and up the side of the couch in the little one bedroom place. It feels sanitary, at least, but in utter turmoil. 

“I tried to clean up some. It’s tough when I’m in the middle of so many projects, you know?”

Kei just nods, unable to come up with a witty retort. 

“So do you want to watch TV or…” 

Kei’s eyes snap to meet Kuroo’s. They’re a few feet apart but he locks onto his eyes, hoping to make his intent clear. “No, there’s no need.”

There’s a glint in Kuroo’s eyes as his grin grows wider. “Perfect.” Kuroo closes the distance between them, meeting Kei back near the door, and runs his hands up his chest to his shoulders so he can push away Kei’s jacket.

As soon as it falls to the floor, Kei is led back to the wall behind him by two strong hands. “Just where we left off?” Kuroo whispers, his face as close as he could get without touching, two arms boxing Kei in on either side.

“I thought that was the plan.”

“Just checking.” Kuroo grins, but doesn’t get any closer. He’s waiting. 

“Do you need some help remembering what to do? There’s plenty of helpful guides on the internet if you need it.” Kei does his part, remembering the old routines. He licks his lips and catches Kuroo watching the motion intently. 

“No, I’m pretty sure I remember what you like.”

“A lot of time’s passed.” Kei wraps both of his arms around Kuroo’s back, fingers digging in just a little. 

“And I’ve learned a lot since then.” Kuroo chooses that moment to finally close the tortuous distance between them, capturing Kei in a kiss unlike the one outside the art venue. This one is far more reminiscent of the adrenaline-fueled hormone releases in the hot, empty corners of school buildings during training or the moments before a mostly-silent hurried hand job before Kei had to go back home. 

Kei moves a hand to wrap into the tangled mess of hair at the back of Kuroo’s head, parting his lips and inviting Kuroo to do more, much more. He obliges, slipping in as one of his hands moves from the wall to run down Kei’s side and land on his hip, thumb digging in, massaging little circles. 

Kuroo takes his time, dipping down Kei’s neck and back, licking hot stripes down before kissing and nipping his way back up. He makes warm humming sounds when his other hand moves under Kei’s shirt and starts roaming the soft skin on Kei’s back. 

As fun as this could be, Kei wants his mind to fully shut up, wants to be blissfully unaware of everything around him for as long as he can manage. He takes the hand that was still on Kuroo’s back and traces lines down his chest until he reaches the hem of Kuroo’s shirt. He slips beneath it and runs his fingers over the abs below because, of course, they’re still as great as he remembers. He takes a moment to play before dipping his thumb into the waist of Kuroo’s jeans, waiting for the kisses to grow more intense before he continues to journey down to where Kuroo is straining against the fabric. 

“So do you have a bed in this shoebox, or what?”

Kuroo smirks against his lips. “I do,” he responds, “but first I need to know what you want, Tsukki. How far are we going here?”

Kei’s traitorous cheeks grow warmer and Kuroo looks so self-satisfied. He’s suddenly very aware of their positions - his hand on Kuroo’s leg, the other in his hair, Kuroo’s hand on his hip, the other on Kei’s back - and it feels too ridiculous. “Well I didn’t come over to watch TV.”

“That much is obvious. You know, our hookups used to be some heavy groping or a rushed hand job. Don’t get me wrong, loved it, but uh,” the hand on Kei’s back moves lower, “that’s not where I want things to go.” He pauses. “But I still need you,” there’s a kiss on Kei’s cheek, “to tell me,” one on his jaw, “what you want,” one at the top of his neck as the last few words are whispered into this ear. 

Kei swallows hard and finds his voice. “I want you to fuck me, Kuroo-san.” And it's his turn to feel smug as Kuroo’s breath catches. 

The dash to the bedroom is short, but the moment Kuroo takes off his shirt, Kei feels insecure. The man before him is layers of muscles and art. If the Kuroo he remembered from before was anything to have an awkward teenage wet dream about, then the man before him now is something to behold. Kei manages to let his eyes roam to an inked tree above Kuroo’s heart, a soft detail on a well-defined chest, before Kuroo’s back on him again, taking off his glasses and pulling at Kei’s shirt.

“Lights.” Kei mutters as best he can. There’s no way he wants to show any more of himself right now. The thought feels stupid, given what is going to happen, but he needs it to happen. “Or maybe not, ‘cause I’ll fall and kill myself on something on your floor.”

Kuroo chuckles, but it’s low, as he reaches behind Kei to smack the lightswitch, the room suddenly lit only by the streetlights slipping in through the cracks in the blinds, casting lines of illumination in the dark. “I got you, you know, so you don’t trip.” Kuroo laughs and picks up Kei, one arm under Kei’s upper back, the other under his knees, until his back meets a mattress, bouncing a little when he lands. 

In a second, Kuroo is pinning him in again, hands pressing down on either side. “So is that what you like these days? Looking beautiful while someone fills you up?”

Kei hasn’t gotten to bottom in years, but when he’s alone in a long shower, it’s what he wants. And now, Kei wants. “You have to stop talking.” He clutches at Kuroo’s back, pulling him closer again so he can shut his mouth with his own.

This time when Kuroo breaks contact to run kisses down Kei’s neck, he doesn’t stop there. Warm touches accompany the soft hums until Kuroo stops right above his waist, making Kei whine, his thumb tugging at the waist of his jeans. His eyes flicker up to meet Kei’s. 

“You first.” Kei says, able to regain his courage in the darkness and growing tired of feeling so passive. Kuroo jumps off the edge of the bed and sheds his last few layers. It’s dark, but the bits of light peeking through give Kei a sight that rids him of the rest of his thoughts. 

When Kuroo gets back on the bed, Kei maneuvers until he can put a firm hand on the other man’s shoulder and push him down. Kuroo goes willingly and Kei throws the rest of his clothes somewhere on the floor. 

He feels better taking the lead, using his energy to draw sounds from Kuroo’s throat. He mirrors what Kuroo did to him, running his lips and tongue over sculpted muscles and feeling encouraged when a hand gently twists into his hair. Kei works his way lower and lower until he’s licking a line up Kuroo’s shaft before taking in just the tip. 

Kuroo moans and the fingers in his hair grip tighter. Kei digs one hand into Kuroo’s thigh and the other finds his base, pumping slowly while he uses his mouth to keep teasing. He waits until Kuroo’s breaths leave his mouth in choked pants before he slips his mouth down quickly. Kuroo gasps and he works his way back up, then down, slower this time, finding a rhythm and moving his tongue to find what motions make Kuroo moan the way he wants to hear. 

He feels a gentle tug upwards, and Kei runs his tongue along the underside of Kuroo’s shaft before he pulls back completely, wiping away spit with his now-free hand. 

“Your turn.” Kuroo growls and Kei barely has a moment to register the movement before Kuroo is flipping him onto his back. Kei gasps when Kuroo’s body falls on his and he’s pulled into a hungry kiss, Kuroo biting at his bottom lip. 

Kuroo pulls back and Kei feels his weight shift on the bed as Kuroo leans over and Kei can hear the crinkly wrapper of a condom and the popping of a lid. When the heat of Kuroo’s body returns, there’s a hot whisper at his ear. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”

And though Kei tries to purse his lips together when the first few cold, wet fingertips tease his hole, once he slips inside, Kei lets go. It’s been way too long and it’s so much better than his own hand working himself open on his bed. 

At first he’s tense, the muscles in his abdomen tight, and the sounds that escape are high-pitched and strained. But Kuroo coaxes him into relaxing, slowly adding more, working in and out and testing the waters until he finds a spot that makes Kei’s back arch and his heels dig into the bed. 

He’s not even sure what sounds are leaving now, because his eyes are screwed shut and he just feels and he just wants. 

“You feel ready?” Kuroo asks, and it’s gruff but sincere as he pulls out, leaving Kei panting.

“Yes. Go.” Kei replies as Kuroo leans down over him. “Fuck me.”

“How do you want it?” Kuroo’s own voice in his ear is wrecked.

Kei doesn’t have to think. “Hard, fuck me hard, Kuroo-san.”

“Good.” Is the only reply Kei hears before he hears Kuroo tear open the condom. He feels the bed dip as Kuroo positions himself and in the darkness, Kei is impatient until one hand grabs his calf, hoisting his leg up to Kuroo’s chest and he feels Kuroo at his wet hole for just a second before he swiftly pushes himself all the way in. 

The man above him groans and grabs Kei’s other leg and pushes forward, folding Kei in on himself. Kei grabs at the sheets below him in anticipation moments before Kuroo drags his length back out slowly and grinds back down forcefully. 

He starts slow, Kei moaning when he feels every inch of Kuroo pulling back before sliding back in. But the pace builds until Kuroo is hardly pulling back at all, pounding Kei’s ass into the mattress, changing the motion every few thrusts until Kei lets out a yell. He swears he can hear Kuroo laugh through the haze of sensation, before there’s a groan above him as Kuroo hits that same spot again and again. 

Kei lifts himself higher off the bed as best he can, giving Kuroo all the leverage he can to chase that feeling. Then he feels a hand on his own throbbing length and Kei is all but gone. Kuroo jerks him off in time with the motion of his hips and Kei comes hard, choked sobs escaping his throat as Kuroo pumps him through it, still thrusting from behind.

Overstimulated but content, Kei tries to give Kuroo the soundtrack he needs to finish, too, filling the bedroom with deep, satisfied moans. Kuroo continues the unrelenting pace, slapping into his ass over and over until he gasps and growls, driving himself into Kei a few more times deeply until he stills. 

They stay like that, frozen, and Kei tries to focus on the feeling of Kuroo still inside of him until it leaves him. Kuroo slides off the bed and Kei can hear him step out of the small room. He hears water running and he unsuccessfully tries to convince himself to move.

He hears Kuroo pad back into the room and Kei attempts to sit up but looks to see Kuroo standing over him from the side of the bed. He pushes Kei back gently with one finger. Then there’s a warm cloth running over his his legs, his chest, his now very sensitive hole, until Kei has no evidence left, at least on the exterior, of what just happened. 

He feels the bed dip down as Kuroo falls back down next to him. He’s still breathing hard, as is Kei, but it’s slowing. Kei feels him place his head on the pillow next to him and he glances over, catching the look on Kuroo’s face in the streetlight. 

There’s a silent beat between them before Kuroo breaks it. “Eighteen year old me is mentally high fiving me right now.”

Despite himself, Kei laughs, loud and deep. “You’re disgusting.” He says, but the words have none of his usual bite. 

Kuroo rolls over onto his back. “You’re amazing.”

They stay like that for a while without words until Kei sits up and asks where his glasses are. Kuroo tells him to shut his eyes as he gets up and turns the lights back on. A blurry Kuroo collects the discarded clothes and shoves them at the end of the bed before handing Kei his glasses. 

A still-naked Kuroo sits down beside him and wraps an arm around his waist, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “You going to stay? Or go?”

Kei doesn’t need to think. He had his answer on the train ride over. He never stays. “I should get back home.” 

“You want to shower first?”

Kei shakes his head. Another always ‘no.’

Kuroo places another kiss to his lips before standing up, stretching loudly, and grabbing some sweatpants from the floor. “I’ll give you a minute.”

Dressed and back in Kuroo’s chaotic living room, Kei expects to have his nerves settle in, even braces himself for it, but finds them absent, blissfully absent. Kuroo hugs him around his middle from behind, asking Kei if he’s sure he wants to go. When Kei’s answer remains the same, Kuroo laughs and stays attached around Kei’s middle until they’re at his front door, letting go only to let Kei put on his shoes. 

“Can we do this again?” Kuroo asks playfully. 

Kei reaches for the door handle and looks back. “Yea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh noooo, my spring break is over. The next few weeks at work will be a bit more hectic, and soon all the things I've been putting off so I can sit at my computer and write will catch up with me, but eeeeeeh, that's for future me to deal with. This has been so much fun to write. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, too! I'll do my best to keep updating regularly.
> 
> Also, there was supposed to be some more about the past here, but again, it didn't fit.  
> Soon. (˵¯͒〰¯͒˵)


	5. Tsukishima, is that a hickey?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei gives Yachi advice, hangs out with friends, establishes an exciting new pattern with Kuroo, and talks to Yamaguchi about all the baggage he drags behind him everyday.

Kei’s getting off the train to walk to another Saturday game night when he receives a few panicked texts from Yachi.

Yachi>> How do you know if you’re on a date?  
Yachi>> like, really… I’ve messed this up so many times before  
Yachi>> headcase buds, so, you have to answer for real  
Yachi>> because I’m sitting on a toilet in the bathroom and she’s out there and I am going to die

He snorts, able to picture the situation perfectly. 

Kei>> do I get to laugh first?

Yachi>> NO. DID YOU NOT READ?  
Yachi>> I. am trapped. in the bathroom. The situation is dire.

Kei>> I’d say it is.  
Kei>> so what’s happened so far?

He stops on the sidewalk and grins at his phone, waiting for the reply. 

Yachi>> We went out for coffee before we saw a movie.  
Yachi>> that is a thing you can do with friends or on a date  
Yachi>> after the movie, she was like “you hungry? Want to get something together?”  
Yachi>> which sounds like a friend thing  
Yachi>> maybe  
Yachi>> but the place she picked is kind of, I dunno, adorable? It’s like this little restaurant in a house and we have a quiet little table and then she reached across to touch my hand  
Yachi>> and then I ran to the bathroom

Kei>> it’s a date.

Yachi>> AGGHHH I KNOW.  
Yachi>> but I didn’t realize it for so long and so I wasn’t ready and I wasn’t sure  
Yachi>> and now she’s going to think I have terrible diarrhea  
Yachi>> so I might as well just stay here? or crawl out a window?  
Yachi>> start a new life somewhere else 

Kei>> tell me what you need. I’ll pack it and throw it in the woods somewhere.

Yachi>> thanks.  
Yachi>> but god, what do I do?

Kei>> go back out there?  
Kei>> and talk like a person?

Yachi>> CAN’T. I know it’s a date now

Kei>> were you normal before you knew it was a date?

Yachi>> barely.

He actually laughs out loud. It reminds him so much of the anxiety-ridden exam-time stress sessions they used to have in college. He treads carefully on the rest of the walk to his friend’s place, looking up when he needs to. 

Kei>> I get that  
Kei>> but just get out of the bathroom  
Kei>> step 1

Yachi>> STEP 2? And 3?

Kei>> text Hinata

Yachi>> noooooooooooooooooooooooo  
Yachi>> he’s so adorably aggressive. He’d be like “kiss her right on her face! You’ll know right away! Everything will be great!” 

He starts walking up the steps to his friend’s apartment. 

Kei>> just get out of the bathroom, walk back to the table, and ask her questions about herself  
Kei>> it’s a great tool when you don’t want to/can’t talk  
Kei>> you like her?

Yachi>> good idea. Maybe. Maybe I can do it.  
Yachi>> and yes. very yes. as in I’ve been purposefully trying to get my lunch from the caf the same time as her everyday yes. 

Kei>> get off the toilet

Yachi>> fine.  
Yachi>> coffee soon? It’s been a while

Kei>> sure  
Kei>> and just so you know, that won’t be a date

Yachi>> shut uuuuuuuuuup

After a knock, his friend opens the door and welcomes him inside, already handing Kei a beer as he puts his phone in his pocket. The whole group isn’t there yet and Kei settles down in a folding chair set out around a table by a window. 

He doesn’t even have time to figure out their conversation topic before one of his friends looks at him for a beat too long, her eyes widening. “Tsukishima, is that a hickey?”

Kei freezes. 

Her eyes are glued to his right shoulder and she’s laughing hard as she leans in. “It’s barely there, but I see it!” She cackles. “Who’s been sucking on your neck?”

Kei swats her away playfully, but he’s sitting straight and still, eyes locked on the wall beyond the people he knows. 

She reads his cues and takes her own seat again, adding, “For what it’s worth, glad to see it.” She raises her beer in a mock toast. “Get it.”

Some of his other friends join in. Half are enthusiastic. They raise their glasses, too, and take a shot at their own style of praise, most of them echoing an exasperated “finally.” The other half awkwardly chuckle and look away, finding spots around the room to look at that Kei doesn’t occupy. 

Kei leans back in his chair, shifting his shoulder gently so his shirt slips over it without the gesture being noticable. He definitely had not seen anything in the mirror today, but naturally, someone else would spot something immediately. He says nothing and lets the conversation die out naturally, thanking the universe when a knock at the door takes the pressure off entirely. 

His own reaction is mixed, too. It’s a badge of victory to have in front of people who still talk to Touma, just as much as it is a physical reminder of embarrassing choices to have in front of people who still talk to Touma. 

How long was he supposed to wait, anyway?

Throughout the night Kei’s on the receiving end of more than his fair share of hickey jokes. An hour in, though, his bite is back, and Kei keeps it going with comebacks of his own. Eventually there’s a pile of beer cans in the kitchen and the games are long forgotten as a group of friends sit on a hardwood floor, laughing and talking about nothing.

 

***

 

The second week Kei goes to Kuroo’s apartment, it’s after a week-long, mostly one-sided text chain of cat memes followed by a suggestive text on Friday morning that forces Kei to slam his phone, face down, on his desk. Conversations like that are for when after the sun has gone down. 

The train ride over Kei is less anxious, but his ease slips away when Kuroo opens the front door. He instantly notices that his place is a little cleaner and the TV is on across the room. Kei takes his time removing his shoes and Kuroo gives him space while he fills the dead air with comments about nothing as he settles back onto his couch. 

By the time he’s joining Kuroo, the continuous stream-of-consciousness is adding to his discomfort so much that when Kuroo tugs on the front of his shirt to pull him closer, he figures the quickest way to shut him up is by shoving his tongue into his mouth. It works. 

They stumble into the bedroom, clothes tossed on the floor along the way, and Kei barely remembers to hit the light switch before they’re right back to where they were the week before. By the end, Kei’s gone from supporting himself on his hands and knees to bracing himself on his forearms, face pressed hard against a pillow that smells like Kuroo. 

The third Friday, Kei’s had a terrible week. He wakes up Monday morning feeling off and it turns out to be a bit of a head cold. The annoyance , however, is nothing compared to Wednesday night when Kei answers the hard knock at his front door to find Touma standing there. Kei keeps his hand on the door frame and says nothing, just stares ahead as his eyebrows and lips trace hard, sharp lines across his features.

Touma stumbles out half of a “how are you?” before he just gives up and asks about the things he left behind. Kei keeps his foot on the door but bends behind him to grab the box and slings it at Touma’s feet. The other man mumbles something about “being petty” and then there’s a full blown argument right outside his front door. 

He knows somewhere in his mind that his neighbors can hear every word at the volume they’re speaking, but he can’t bring himself to care. He lets the vitriol spill like venom from his lips. Kei takes every thought he’s turned inwards and he spits it back out. It’s all Touma’s fault he feels like this about himself, so he yells until he has no fight left in his lungs and he slams the door. 

Kei makes it a few feet inside before he slumps against the wall and onto the floor. His mind is racing and his sight goes blurry. No tears come but his breath is ragged and choked. At some point he makes it to bed and falls asleep in his clothes with every light still on throughout the apartment. 

He spends the entirety of Thursday in a fog and Friday morning fares no better. His thoughts are no longer his own to control and he lets them go on their own path, hoping they’ll run their course sooner rather than later.

Kei shows up at Kuroo’s place earlier than normal that night. The TV’s on but he doesn’t give Kuroo anytime to walk and talk, invite him in. The door’s only just closed behind him when he’s pushing Kuroo towards his couch, pulling at his clothes and gripping at any bit of skin he can get to.

He has Kuroo pinned down roughly with two hands, legs on either side, and he doesn’t care how desperate he must look or how his voice sounds when he asks, “is this okay with you?” 

Kuroo responds with a growled, “hell yea.”

Kei takes over that night. They don’t even make it to the bed. He rides Kuroo on his couch, lights on, TV still playing, until both of them are yelling. When Kuroo is gently cleaning him, like he does every time, Kei puts his hand on the side of his face. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

That night he has to run to catch the last train back to his apartment. 

By the fourth Friday of their new arrangement, Kei’s body wakes up with expectations. He works out a dream he had in the shower and resists the urge to check his phone until he’s done with work for the day.

Kei expects to feel embarrassed about how last week’s visit began and ended as he stands outside Kuroo’s door, but he doesn’t. It was what he needed. And even though the hunger isn’t the same as the week before because Kei’s not running from any fresh problems, it’s still what he needs.

The night begins with breathy kisses exchanged near Kuroo’s doorway, but it’s not long before Kuroo is dropping to his knees and sucking him off while Kei threads his fingers through dark hair and pulls. When they finally make it to Kuroo’s bed, there’s more teasing than any of the other times, like their verbal banter found its physical translation.

Kei takes his time working his way down Kuroo’s abdomen. He licks and nips at sensitive skin until Kuroo is squirming beneath him before he returns the favor from earlier. 

Kuroo pays him back by working him open for ages, driving him close to the edge before drawing back out completely a few times until Kei finds his voice enough to yell.

“Just go already.” Kei growls at the man above him. 

“But I like making you look like this.”

His voice is frustrated and breathless. “Just know I’ll do this to you soon.” The words leave him before he even thinks of what he’s implying.

Kuroo’s eyes widen for a second before a grin spreads across his face. “Promise?” He lines himself up but stays just outside, teasing, until Kei looks like he’s about ready to punch him. 

The end result is good, really good, Kei decides later. He can feel the fresh marks and scratches on his back as he gets dressed and it makes him shiver. 

When he gets back out to the living room, he’s surprised to see Kuroo dressed, not in his usual sweatpants. “I’m meeting friends. I’ll walk out with you.” He announces. 

But Kuroo does more than walk out with him. They walk together to the train station. The entire way. It’s a ten minute jog, Kei knows, but at the pace they’re going, it’ll easily be fifteen or twenty minutes. He’s so tense he could snap, but Kuroo is talking easily like he wasn’t just balls deep in Kei’s ass less than half an hour ago. 

Like this is a totally normal part of his week. 

Probably it is. Kei has no idea what the rest of Kuroo’s week is like.

“...so what do you think?”

“What?” Kei spits back, startled.

“About the picks for the national team repping us at the world championship this year?”

“Honestly, I haven’t paid any attention to volleyball in years.” Kei responds, his tone complaisant. 

“Are you kidding? That’ so sad.” Kuroo’s voice drops in tone. “I mean, when I figured it wasn’t going anywhere, really, I got bummed out and stopped playing for a while, but I couldn’t stay away. Don’t you need that outlet? A place where hard work, like, actually pays off and you can smack things as hard as you need to once in a while?” 

“I manage.”

“Nah, I’ll have to have you come out and play with my team sometime. It’s with a friend’s work team, so I’m not even really supposed to play, but they found some loopholes since I went to Nationals and all. They’d love to have you come, too.”

“I haven’t played in years.”

“Won’t matter.”

“I’d be terrible.”

“Highly doubt it.”

“I have no interest in going.” Kei says with finality. 

“Suit yourself.” And Kuroo launches into a story from their first game where a new guy tried to underhand serve and Kuroo burst out laughing because “what are we, children?”

They need to go on opposite sides of the platform, Kuroo heading West and Kei going East to get back home. Before parting, Kuroo leans over so his lips are brushing the shell of his ear. “See you next Friday.”

 

***

 

Kei decides that some days are still better than others, but that the ratio of horrible days to acceptable days is swinging gently in his favor. 

On Sunday morning, Kei wakes up on his own earlier than he’d like to. He has every intention of rolling over and going back to sleep until he checks his phone out of habit and sees a string of texts from Tadashi. 

Tadashi>> got back late from hanging out and what’s on my doorstep? A PACKAGE FROM TSUKKI!  
Tadashi>> I actually cried, not a lot, but I’ll own it. I did.  
Tadashi>> I have been so, so, so homesick. How did you know?  
Tadashi>> of course you knew -- gah I wish you weren’t sleeping now and that I wouldn’t be going to bed soon. Either way, sleep well, Tsukki. We’ll talk soon!

Kei looks at the time of the first text. It was only a little over half an hour ago. It’s still just before midnight in London. 

Kei>> you still up?

His best friend’s reply comes immediately in the form of an incoming call. 

“Good morning! Why are you up?” Tadashi’s tone is aggressively bubbly. He must still be somewhat drunk from his night out.

“I’m not. I’m probably going back to bed soon.” Kei’s voice is thick with sleep. He rolls over onto his side and rests his phone on his ear. “I’m glad the box showed up. I sent it ages ago.” 

For a few weeks, Kei had picked up extra items at the store every time he went, things that he knew Tadashi loved. He’d been stocking them up on a shelf in his little apartment, waiting to send them all, watching the pile grow like a little shrine for the friend he dearly missed.

“I’m sitting here enjoying a cup of my favorite green tea --”

“This late at night?”

“I’ll still go to sleep, promise. There’s enough whiskey in my blood to make an elephant drowsy. And anyway, I have a nice, hot cup of my favorite green tea, my pantry now has three boxes of my favorite brand of curry, and there’s enough flavored chips in here to keep me going for weeks.”

“But--?” Kei knows there’s more to that sentence. 

Tadashi laughs. “But I’m going to eat them all this week.” He pauses. “Thank you, Tsukki.” 

Kei imagines the look on his face, those disarmingly wide and earnest eyes soft with sincere gratitude. Kei smiles into his pillow, feeling pinpricks behind his eyes. “I thought you might need some better tea and junk food options.”

“I really, really did.” Kei hears a sigh on the other end. “I really have been homesick lately. It just started. I was so wrapped up in the excitement of getting married and moving here that it wasn’t until things started to slow down that it all, kind of, hit - you know?” 

Kei hums to show he’s listening. Of course he’d picked up on it. Tadashi's the type to dissect other people’s problems, help them with every little thing, but keep all of his own issues locked up tight. But Kei noticed the little things - how, over the last few weeks, Tadashi had been going out more at night, talking faster and louder, trying to call any time either of them had even the smallest opportunity. When Tadashi was upset, he tried to fill all the silent, pensive moments with activity. 

“It was so stupid. I got my first cell phone bill in the mail last week and I saw my name on the envelope, printed in English, with my new address and I just lost it. Right there in the lobby of our building next to the post boxes, I just start sobbing because it felt too real all at once. I looked like a lunatic.”

Kei snorts. “Gross, showing emotion in public.”

“Right? I was mortified. So I run up a million flights of stairs, because the elevator is so not an option when you’re randomly crying, and the whole time I’m just spiraling - the weddings I’ll miss, the birthdays I’ll miss, all of my family’s events that I’ll miss, the friends I already miss, the food I already miss, the feeling of knowing what the hell I’m going on a daily basis that I already miss.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m going to miss so much. I can’t make it all up in one or two visits a year. There’s no way that’s ever going to be enough.”

Kei knows this. He’s known this since the night Tadashi told him his plans to move. When they see each other, he knows it will be like no time has passed. He knows they talk often enough that logically it shouldn’t be a problem. 

“It won’t be.” Kei says plainly. “But I’ll keep sending you pizza chips.”

Tadashi makes a sound somewhere between laughter and heartache. “Please do. I’m already half a bag in. I need more melted cheese on chips in my life.”

“You know it’s not cheese. It doesn’t even smell like cheese. And besides, the kimchi chips are better.”

“I don’t know how many times I’m going to have to prove you wrong. The melted chemical plastic and the sprinkles of red-colored poison on the pizza chips is far better than those kimchi chips.”

“Which I sent you two bags of.”

Tadashi laughs. “I saw. Thanks. Really, thank you. I needed this. And somehow you picked the perfect time.” There’s a beat of comfortable silence between them. Kei stretches in bed and sits up to the sounds of Tadashi sipping tea and ruffling chip bags. “Now can we talk about anything else while I drink tea and sober up?”

They talk about everything even though they’ve texted throughout the week. There’s a difference, though, between hearing a story through little text chains and hearing his friend’s voice tell the same story. Kei shares how his first project was a success and how he’s actually started going out for happy hour with his coworkers. He might not hate it all. Tadashi tells new stories about the things he keeps messing up from living in foreign country and Kei laughs every time. 

Eventually, Kei can tell where his best friend is not so sublty dragging the conversation. Hestalls as long as he can, mostly just to mess with him, but the questions are incessant. 

“What have you been up to?”

“What’d you do yesterday?”

“Oh, and how about Friday night? _Do_ anything fun?”

Kei sighs. Only for Tadashi. But he won’t agree without making his friend fight for it. “Do we have to?”

“Not really, but it’s fun.”

“For you.”

“Precisely. And besides, I still wonder -”

“I know.” Kei interjects. “You’ve said it enough recently, but there’s a big difference between being an object of infatuation and being boyfriend material. I’m attracted to Kuroo, physically. I feel nothing for him otherwise. It’s the same as before.”

“There is _something_ outside of the physical, though. You both talked a lot back then --”

“Texted.” Kei corrects.

“Fine. Texted a lot back then. There was clearly something about him that kept you engaged. You don’t let people into your life easily.”

“Yea, but we weren’t friends.”

“How were you not?”

“We had this conversation already - years ago.” Kei huffs. “You’re my friend. Hinata and Yachi are my friends. The whole engineering game crew are my friends. We do things together. Kuroo and I don’t do things together,“ Tadashi starts to interrupt and he stops it, “Not like quality time,” he grunts, “you know what I mean.”

“I do, I do.” Tadashi snorts a soft little laugh.

Kei knows that his friend is intentionally not saying anything. He’s waiting for Kei to keep talking whenever he’s ready. So Kei sits and lets the silence remain for a moment, unwilling to give voice to the pervasive thought that has been running through his mind on and off for months. “Infatuation is dangerous for me. It doesn’t lead to love, but I think it does, and I make bad, bad choices.”

“You didn’t do that with Touma.”

“But I did with Akaashi.” 

Saying the name out loud makes those memories fill his empty room. He can see himself at the end of his freshman year, running into Akaashi out with friends at a bar. He remembers how his breath caught when Akaashi turned around and drunkenly shouted out his name. 

When he heard his own name from those lips, saw the pink flush across Akaashi’s usually composed face, saw the way the past year had sculpted even more statuesque features into an already beautiful face, he knew he was a goner. 

That night, Akaashi’s friends left early and he plopped down next to Kei, “just to catch up.” Kei’s friends had all either raised an eyebrow or given him a thumbs up at the sight of a pretty boy leaning in closer and closer to him. He wanted to explain to them the situation, explain that they were just old… not even teammates… something in between acquaintances and friends, but Akaashi took the whole of his attention. 

Akaashi had been mad, spitting mad, at Bokuto. “We broke up three weeks ago,” Akaashi explained, gesturing with his drink, “because he refuses to grow up at all, and he thinks the way to make it up to me is by never leaving me alone - calling me all the time, showing up at my apartment, bothering me at work. I am not going to be the magic cure for his easily bruised ego anymore.” 

The more he talked, the closer he leaned in. The closer he got, the softer his voice grew until it was just a whisper right next to Kei’s cheek. His heart had pounded, he was sure Akaashi could feel it, and he already knew he’d do whatever Akaashi asked. 

And he did.

He did that night and for several months after. 

For most of his sophomore year, Kei was in love with Akaashi Keiji. He had come back into his life at a time when Kei was wound so tightly within himself that it was hard to let anyone else in. During his freshman year, he hadn’t made many new friends, not close ones, and he thought he could be content with that. But Akaashi pushed him to want more and be more. He’d opened up new parts of himself and he let himself be happy, really happy, until it ended abruptly and bitterly. 

“Kei,” Tadashi says softly, “everyone is allowed to make mistakes. And, for the record, I don’t think that was one. I know it hurt, but you learned so much about yourself that year you were together.”

“Almost a year. And all I learned was that I’m not the one you stay with forever.” Because, of course, Akaashi finally figured out that he was still supposed to be with Bokuto. And, of course, Touma finally figured out that Kei was just another stepping stone on the path to finding someone better. “I’m just tired. I keep staying in these relationships longer than I should and I just don’t want to do it again right now. Or maybe ever.” 

When Tadashi replies his tone is soft. “I know, Tsukki, I know.” His voice cracks. He pauses and Kei can hear him taking deep breaths. “I want to have the perfect thing to say, but all I can think of is ‘I know.’ You just, you just do whatever you need to do right now and I’ll be there for you.”

Kei chews his bottom lip and says nothing. He slowly sweeps his legs off of the bed and lets his feet touch the cold floor. The room feels too still and quiet. He finally responds, “My turn to shut it down. Can we talk about literally anything else? Who’s frustrating you at work right now?”

Tadashi laughs and Kei hears the tears behind it. His voice is thick and raspy, but he plays along. “Can I just tell you about this lady named Anne? She’s the worst.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑  
>  I got it to go somewhere! This chapter was a pain to write. Then I stayed up until 3am one night and just forced it from my body.  
> I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for sticking with me.


	6. Maybe I just wanted you to do that again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty much just our two boys. Kei and Kuroo text, they see each other regularly, and Kei invites Kuroo over to his place for the first time and things go...

Kuroo>> how was work today?  
Kuroo>> you heading home yet? 

At least three times a week Kuroo texts him right around 6pm to ask about his day. Kei always replies. There’s no need to be rude, after all, but he keeps his replies short and doesn’t overshare. They always end when Kei stops replying or if Kuroo says he’s going out with a friend. 

Kei>> on the train platform now with the rest of Tokyo. And fine.

Kuroo>> just fine?

Kei>> last bid I helped write was picked up and I get to work on another, so yay?  
Kei>> you?

Kuroo>> congrats!  
Kuroo>> mine was whatever -- met with clients. One was so boring I almost died. He legit said he wanted the kind of shit they put in hotels. He likes it.  
Kuroo>> but I’ve been home for hours, so I can’t complain

Kei>> how’d you swing that?

Kuroo>> gotta work some events later in the week and I can’t go over my hours, so HALF DAY WEDNESDAY  
Kuroo>> good project time

Kei>> what are you working on?

Kuroo>> aw man, like 400 things at once. But, today more carvings. Did you see much of my stuff at the art share?

Kei>> a little

Kuroo>> well if you saw the one with the temple steps, with the shops, I’m doing more like that. I’ve got all these pictures I took from summer festivals that I’m going through and I’m using those as inspiration.  
Kuroo>> so now  
Kuroo>> I’m all  
Kuroo>> weepy and nostalgic 

For a second, Kei’s back in that room, standing beside the older woman with the soft voice feeling his chest tighten as he looks at the print.

Kei>> why?

Kuroo>> don’t you miss it? I dunno, going to festivals now is still great, but it’s not the same as getting dressed up with your friends for, like, that one big night out without your parents. It’s just a thing I can do now.  
Kuroo>> Sometimes I don’t want to be an aduuuuuuuult. I want to run around a festival and be obnoxious and stupid.

Kei>> you’re still both of those things. in spades.

Kuroo>> aw, I’m so glad. I haven’t lost my charms!  
Kuroo>> and you’re still  
Kuroo>> as charming as  
Kuroo>> getting  
Kuroo>> stung  
Kuroo>> by a wasp  
Kuroo>> ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )

Kei’s thumb hovers over the keyboard before he shuts off his screen, letting the conversation end there for the night. Tadashi can say all the kind words he can about his past relationships, but Kei knows himself better. He sees what his best friend can’t. He needs to maintain boundaries. 

 

***

 

“It’s open!” Kuroo shouts from inside.

Kei opens his front door slowly, unsure of what to expect on the other side. Kuroo’s always greeted him. Things always started in the entryway. It’s part of the deal.

Before the door’s even fully open, he’s greeted by a scene of Kuroo sitting on his living room floor with three take out boxes around him. He toes off his shoes and looks up. “Hey,” he says before his lips settle in a tight line. 

“Hey,” Kuroo calls back louder, turning his body towards the door and away from the TV. “Sorry, I realized at, like, 9:30 that I hadn’t had dinner yet and this just got delivered a few minutes ago.” His mouth isn’t exactly full of food, but it isn’t empty either.

Kei sneers. “I could’ve come later.” He slides his socked feet along the fake wood flooring, avoiding the now-familiar, well-intentioned stacks of supplies along the way.

“No, it’s fine. You want anything?” Kuroo offers up his box of pad thai. 

He shakes his head and takes a seat at the edge of Kuroo’s couch, body stiff and refusing to relax. Kuroo spins around to face him, looking up and finishing another bite of noodles. “Busy day?” Kei asks. 

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” At least he swallows his food first this time, Kei notes. “So I went out with the actual art buyers from our company, right, the people way more qualified than me, to this big event filled with real artists and their reps.” He’s gesturing with his chopsticks. “And it was just so overwhelming. It was so many hours of having to shake hands and fake smile and I couldn’t even really talk that much because I don’t know what I’m doing, so I just sort of followed behind the team like some grinning idiot.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. It was fun, though.”

Kei replies after holding on to only one part of that. “But you’re a real artist.”

Kuroo laughs with a closed mouth full of food. He takes a moment to swallow before replying. “Oh my god, that’s so wrong, but nice.” He laughs again. “But no way. These people make a real living. People fight over who gets to take their stuff home. I just play around, make stuff I like, make a little side money.”

“But you do all this.” Kei moves his hand that was resting on the end of the couch to motion lazily around the room. He relaxes into the back of the couch. 

“It’s different.” Kuroo replies, shoveling in another bite.

Kei tilts his head and raises an eyebrow slightly. “Whatever, it’s a moot point. You always think you know better.”

“And you don’t?”

“I said you _think_ you know better. I actually _do_ know better.” 

Kuroo picks up his box and settles down next to Kei, the seat sagging down in the old couch. “You should respect your senpai.”

“I’ll let you know when I see one.” Kei leans back. “Or I’ll do that once I go back to a time when that might, could have maybe, even slightly mattered.”

Kuroo chases his lean, the box still between them. “Maybe you could call me that later.”

Kei snorts. “I’ll leave.”

Without looking away, Kuroo sets the box on the seat beside him and closes more of the distance. “I bet you wouldn’t.”

Kei lets him lean in closer before he replies. “Your breath reeks of onions.”

It really does, but he meets Kuroo in the middle, kissing his Thai food flavored lips. And when Kuroo’s weight presses his back into the arm of the couch, he leans back willingly and lets the kiss deepen. He tastes the onions and the garlic, and a part of his brain registers this as gross, but it’s overpowered until that thought is long forgotten.

He will make him brush his teeth before this goes any further, though. 

That night, things are slow to progress. Kei blames the awkward beginning. For the past several weeks they’ve started at the door or on the couch right away. This time he had to watch Kuroo eat. But once the switch is flipped, it’s business as usual. They’ve found what they like.

Kuroo always likes to start the pace slow and lets the heat build.

He likes to leave red marks on Kei’s thighs as he works him open. Sometimes he’ll kiss his way back up to his lips, nipping at his pale skin along the way, humming when Kei’s body jumps or when a moan escapes his lips, but he always finds his way back to lavish attention to his legs. 

Kei likes to pay him back with marks on his chest. He figures by now Kuroo’s noticed that he pays extra attention to the areas of inked skin, especially the tree over his heart and the roots that he can follow down his body. He doesn’t even mind the self-satisfied look on Kuroo’s face when he does it.

Kei likes to make sure everything he wants is known, demands groaned into the air between them. Kuroo seems to like it, too, by the way he thrusts harder the more Kei loses himself. 

And he won’t admit it, but he likes the way Kuroo looks above him, muscles working hard beneath tanned skin, hair falling forward, mouth open and moaning until he gets closer and he grits his teeth through the last erratic thrusts as he chases his release.

That night, he never calls him senpai, but he knows Kuroo’s name escapes his lips when his legs are wrapped tight around the other man. 

He’s rewarded with just what he needs.

 

***

 

Kuroo>> this cat looks like you  
Kuroo>> _image sending_

Kei>> I’m not a cat

Kuroo>> not with that attitude you’re not

Kei>> ?

Kuroo>> look how scrunched up his face is! you make that face all the time  
Kuroo>> I bet you made it when you read my message. Tell me I’m wrong. You can’t. 

Kei>> still not a cat

Kuroo>> then what’s your animal?

Kei>> like my favorite?

Kuroo>> no! The one you ARE. What animal ARE you?

Kei>> human

Kuroo>> *forever eye roll* I’m obviously a cat

Kei>> never would have guessed. It’s not like you have a black cat on your wrist or anything.

Kuroo>> Kenma has it, too! We match! Well, his is smaller, but we match. And it’s fine, ‘cause he’s smaller. Proportional.  
Kuroo>> you could get a small human on your wrist. Remind you of your spirit animal. *still eye rolling*

Kei>> you should trade it out for a dog. You’re way needier and attention-seeking than a cat.

 

***

 

“So I know why you have this cat,” Kei graces a thumb over the spot on Kuroo’s left wrist, “and I’ve more or less figured out these.” From his position on Kuroo’s lap, Kei brings his arm up to his lips and kisses down from his wrist. Pants and shirts are gone after the initial rush to the bedroom, but things have slowed. Briefs are still on. 

Kei’s in a good mood. He feels like playing. 

Kuroo’s propped up against the head of the bed, some pillows behind his back. He’s grinning like an idiot. “My tools. Not too hard to figure out. Paintbrush, drafting pencil, carving knife. I only got the one type of knife here even though I have so many different ones. I picked a one that --”

“Too much explanation.” He rolls his hips and for a second Kuroo’s grin falls. 

“You’re the one who asked.”

“Just curious.” Kei shrugs and settles back where he was perched on top of the other man. He knows he’s teasing. He knows his ass is perfectly placed to let Kuroo get close enough to the sensation he seeks without letting it happen. “And this one?” Kei rolls down once more on his way up onto his knees, leaning over to pay attention to the ink on his left arm. 

Kuroo cards his fingers through his hair. “Subatomic particles.”

Kei snorts, but continues his way up his arm until he’s kissing harder into his shoulder, then his neck, nipping little marks along the way. 

“It’s an image from the CERN bubble chambers from a few decades back. It’s from a set of experiments where--”

Kei’s already leaned back to grind down on him. “Too much explaining _again_.” He smirks.

“Maybe I just wanted you to do that _again_.” 

“Oh good, is that all you need tonight, then? Looks like I can get home early.” He retorts, but doesn’t move. 

“I don’t think you’d like that either.”

“I’d manage.”

“Sure, go home and furiously fuck yourself in the shower. I hope I’m better than that.”

Kei shrugs. 

Kuroo laughs a dark little laugh. “You know, Tsukki,” his voice grows lower, “sometimes I think about you in a position just like this one, only you’re the one that’s going to work me open and fuck me stupid. Would you like that?”

Kei feels pinpricks of heat all over his skin. He knows the pale skin on his chest has already betrayed him. No sense in playing coy now. 

He brackets his hands on either side of Kuroo’s head and bends down to whisper into his ear a simple reply. “Yes.” He swallows hard as images keep running through his mind. “But not tonight.” He pauses, pulling back until his staring at Kuroo’s face. “I’ve already gotten myself ready for you.”

Kuroo hums in response and Kei reclaims his spot. Kuroo pushes up against him and raises an eyebrow in question. “What did _you_ do after work?”

“Well,” Kei leans back, applying more pressure, “the train was packed and humid so when I got home I got in the shower and,” he places one hand on Kuroo’s thigh and shifts his weight so he’s starting to arch his back, “I got a little carried away.”

In the next moment, his back is against the bed and Kuroo is pulling off the rest of his clothing while kissing him furiously. He breaks away only to free himself, too. 

“Show me.” Kuroo growls.

“What?” Kei stops.

“You made me think about it, now show me.” He places the bottle of lube in Kei’s fingers. “Show me what you like.”

“You want that?” Kei tries to sound sarcastic, but it just comes out needy. 

Kuroo groans in agreement and lies down next to him, face close on the shared pillow. 

He angles his body and gets his hand ready like he does at home, but he’s acutely aware of the intense stare inches from his fast. When he puts his first finger in, he goes slower than he normally would, expecting to feel tense from the situation, but is pleased to find that he must have done great earlier. He shudders, remembering. 

Kei’s encouraged by the deep sound that escapes Kuroo’s throat. After a little while, he slips in another finger and twists them finding the place he always reaches for. He bites his lip hard before his mouth opens again and his breath starts to leave in heated pants. 

“God, you look so good right now.” Kuroo doesn’t touch him and Kei doesn’t open his eyes anymore, but he can feel him looking and can hear his groans. Kei likes it. He does his best to put on a show when he slides in a third finger. 

By the time Kei opens his eyes again, Kuroo’s expression is dark and greedy. Kuroo says nothing, just breathes hard as starts to position himself above Kei, but he stops him.

Kei guides him back down with a hand and takes his same place from before, this time sliding into position, letting his cock slip just past where he knows Kuroo wants it to be. Kuroo jerks under him. “Now, it’s my turn to be entertained.”

He takes his time. Kei brings the man beneath him closer and closer before stopping completely. He likes the face Kuroo makes when he’s eager and frustrated. But the back of his mind remembers what Kuroo whispered earlier. He imagines the faces Kuroo might make if their roles were reversed, what sounds he could drag from his mouth that way. 

The thought makes him fall back onto his hands on Kuroo’s thighs and grow looser as Kuroo takes over, thrusting up into him until he grabs onto Kei and flips him onto his back without losing contact, continuing the impatient pace until they’re both boneless and content. 

Kei allows his eyes to close, listening to the man breathing beside him, relaxing into the lingering sensations in his body. 

Eventually he does get up to go home. He struggles to stay awake on the train. 

 

***

 

Kei’s been to a couple of happy hours with his coworkers over the past few weeks, but this one is by far the largest. Usually, it’s just four or five members of his team grabbing a drink after work. Those have been fine, even great sometimes. Kei enjoys getting to sit down at a table and complain with people who understand. Each time so far, they’ve gotten one drink, then gone their separate ways.

Comfortable. Predictable. And it’s fine if he doesn’t say all that much because he has a seat and that, by definition, makes him a part of everything.

Tonight, though, they have the whole back quarter of a bar to themselves, standing room only, as more spouses and significant others trickle in to join their overworked counterparts. 

He talks to the lead on his team until his wife shows up. Then she offers way too much information about their kids and he stiffly grins at a few photos before he manages to excuse himself.

He talks to his boss when he throws an arm around Kei, his face already growing red. He pulls another member of Kei’s team under the other arm and roughly pats their backs, announcing to no one in particular that they’d done a great job, that he has high expectations for the future. Kei silently prays and counts the seconds until the grip loosens and he can slip out, staying for a few moments until he’s sure his boss is wrapped up in another conversation.

He talks to the woman who sits in the cubicle next to him. The conversation is dry, but safe, and he’s comfortable with a drink in his hand until her husband arrives and Kei realizes he’s already used up all of his practiced small talk. 

He dances around the larger groups, giving up on trying to find just one person to engage at a time because it’s useless. He ends up on the outside of a few groups, awkwardly orbiting loud-talking, laughing groups of couples.

Couples.

Why are there so many couples?

He feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket.

Kuroo>> Happy Thursday! Home yet?

Kei>> no, out for drinks

Kuroo>> having fun?

Kei>> not today, looking for my out. I’ll pretend this text is an emergency.

He makes a face at his phone, acting like he’s deep in thought, but the charade is pointless. No one is watching. Phone in hand, he slips past the last few groups and slips into the evening air. It’s not until he’s back outside, blinking at the setting sun, that he realizes he might be a bit more buzzed than he thought. He thinks back to lunch. Perhaps two mixed drinks on after only eating a bag of chips for lunch wasn’t the best idea. 

Kei leans against the wall outside the bar to check his phone again while he decides if he wants to walk to the train station and battle commuter traffic or take an expensive cab ride home. The choice is obvious, but he likes to pretend he could fork over the cash for a blissfully silent ride back. 

A man trips against his foot and murmurs and apology, his arm slung around a petite girl.

Another couple.

If Kei rolled his eyes any harder he’d get dizzy. He unlocks his phone.

Kuroo>> did you escape?  
Kuroo>> I hope so.  
Kuroo>> I’ve been at home for about an hour. Life is good. Had a happy hour of my own. Feeling great.  
Kuroo>> I might not make a lot, but at least I don’t work too hard?

Kei>> I’m finally free. 

He rolls off of the wall and starts the trek to the station, his phone dropped back into the front pocket of his work bag. 

Kei doesn’t look at it again until he gets closer to home and the crowd on the train has thinned a little. For the past few stops he’d been leaning against a pole, fighting the urge to feel sleepy and loose while an alcoholic warmth continued to spread throughout his limbs. Finally a seat opens and he settles in, tucking his bag tight against his chest to let someone else sit next to him. He closes his eyes and rests against the window until the vibration from his phone pulls him out of it.

Kuroo>> you did it!  
Kuroo>> also, you ever been at home and there’s a full bottle of wine and then suddenly, half of its gone and there is no one else there? Like, it definitely just went into your own body?  
Kuroo>> I feel cozy.  
Kuroo>> wish it was Friday. Then no work. And other things.  
Kuroo>> _image received_

At the bottom of the text chain is an image that makes Kei clutch his phone to his chest, hiding the screen. Sure, it’s just a selfie, but Kuroo’s clearly shirtless, and Kei doesn’t need other passengers to think he’s leering at pictures of good-looking, tattooed men on a packed public train. 

His phone vibrates again and Kei continues to hold it against him. He rolls his tongue around in his mouth, pressing hard against the back of his teeth. His right foot taps the floor. 

He looks.

Kuroo>> don’t want to wait til tomorrow  
Kuroo>> _image received_

Kei has no idea how he got a photo at that angle, but that’s the least of his concerns. He shuts off the screen as quickly as he can, but the photo stays sharp in his mind. Stretched out on his couch, Kuroo had tilted his head to the side, mouth open as his free hand wrapped around his cock. Kei could almost hear the noise he was making. 

He knows his face is red now and he lowers his gaze to pretend like he’s fallen asleep, but his heart is beating too quickly for that to be real.

The phone continues to vibrate but he doesn’t dare look at it until the woman who had occupied the seat next to him gets off at her stop. He angles his body so his phone faces the window but he tilts it down until he’s sure there’d be no reflection in the dirty glass. 

It’s just words this time, but it takes several messages until the image is off of his screen.

Kuroo>> well?  
Kuroo>> see anything you like

Kei>> not when I’m IN PUBLIC

Kuroo>> that didn’t used to bother you

Kei>> yes it did

Kuroo>> nope. I distinctly remember a few occasions  
Kuroo>> before you went back to Miyagi

Kei>> okay fine but not now

Kuroo>> when you were not so shy about finding quieter corners  
Kuroo>> IN PUBLIC

Kei>> I get it

Kuroo>> or definitely PUBLIC locker rooms

The alcoholic buzz isn’t what it was when he first got on the train, but it’s enough. 

Kei>> I liked it

Kuroo>> What? Back then or the pic now?

Kei waits.

Kuroo>> THEN OR NOW?

Kei waits again. He watches “ _Kuroo is typing…_ ” blink on and off at the bottom of the message. 

Kuroo>> it’s both  
Kuroo>> isn’t it?

The way Kei sees it, he has three options. He can stop this conversation and do his best to turn off all of the switches that have begun to flip inside of him and just take care of it at home if he can’t. He could get off at the next station to take two different train lines to get to Kuroo’s eventually (with all of his work stuff, in all of his work clothes). Or--

Kei>> Friday night is a while away.

Kuroo>> and?

Kei>> just a fact  
Kei>> I mean, patience is a virtue but  
Kei>> you could come over to my place tonight

He presses send before he can think twice. He wants to blame his choices on two heaping helpings of vodka, but he knows the drinks weren’t that strong. He’s warm, his skin still has a comforting tingle, and his eyes sometimes let everything get really soft around the edges, but he’s thinking clear enough. 

Kuroo>> even better than what I was thinking. What’s your address?

 

***

 

Kei takes a long shower and changes clothes, careful to put everything in its correct place. He gives each room a look-over, pacing between them. He pours himself a glass of red wine, takes a gulp, grimaces, then leaves it on the counter. He walks away only to pick up the glass again to wipe the ring of water left on the counter from the freshly washed glass. 

He holds it in his hand and checks the rooms two more times in the same pattern - kitchen, living room, bathroom, bedroom. Finally, he sits down on his couch, finishes the glass, and reads the same paragraph in his book so many times he could recite the first sentence. 

He startles when he hears the doorbell and internally berates himself. He asked Kuroo to come over. He tells himself over and over he’s so dumb to get this anxious over something he wanted. 

Opening the door, short greetings are exchanged. Kuroo takes off his shoes but they don’t line up next to his just right. He removes his light jacket and hangs it next to Kei’s. He’s talking but Kei’s not listening yet. He only catches the end.

“--even live here? Does a human live here? It’s too clean.”

He can tell by the look on Kuroo’s face that it takes him a moment too long to retort, but he does. “I’m sorry you’re not used to a human apartment.”

Kuroo turns on his heels and then they’re eye to eye. Kei watches the path of his eyes and wonders what exactly he’s looking at. He takes a step into Kei’s space and lifts a hand to run his fingers through the back of his hair. “It’s good to see you today.” His voice is soft and low. His eyes are dark.

Kei lets his head fall against his palm. Kuroo takes the shift of weight as an invitation, and pulls him in to meet his lips across the short distance. Kei breathes in sharply at the contact but sighs into it, trying to let go of the tension in his body. 

Usually, Kei feels like he’s the one leading. Kuroo might set the pace initially, but Kei knows what buttons to push to move things along the way he wants them to. Tonight, though, Kuroo’s kisses are insistent, their intentions more obvious, less hidden behind layers of playful sarcasm. He finds it easier to push himself back to the headspace he was in when he asked him over in the first place. 

After all, selfies don’t compare to the real thing. 

He responds to Kuroo’s hands in his hair and on his hip by running his own up Kuroo’s back under his thin t-shirt. 

“Sure glad I sent you some pics.” Kuroo takes a breath and grins against Kei’s mouth.

Kei chuckles in his throat, pressing fingertips into his side. “Yea, I guess.” He uses his body to push Kuroo backwards until the back of his knees hit the edge of his couch. He captures his mouth again before shifting his weight so he falls back, Kei on top of him except for where he catches himself on his palms above his shoulders. 

Kuroo laughs out loud when he lands. The sound fills the quiet room and Kei realizes he’s completely still and staring when Kuroo stops and looks up at him expectantly. For a moment, the heat is gone and is replaced with something Kei can’t name.

Kuroo pulls him down by his shirt. His elbows buckle and he collapses gracelessly the rest of the way. Kuroo acts like it hurts, but laughs again and this time Kei joins in, too, snickering against Kuroo’s neck.

“You’re so bony. Just a bunch of sharp angles.” He runs his fingertips along Kei’s hip bones.

“You don’t usually complain.” He counters.

“That’s because I’m busy thinking about ways to feed you sandwiches.”

Kei feels a frown form on his face before he can catch it.

The lack of a response must catch Kuroo off guard, because he chuckles weakly then whispers, “Really, it’s because I like running my hands along every part of you, leaving kisses everywhere,” his voice grows deeper, “leaving marks when I can’t help myself.” His hands run along Kei’s hips to his back and slip under the waist of his jeans. 

Kei’s not sure what to do with his arm in the awkward position, but one hand slides up Kuroo’s muscled arm while he leaves a trail of warm kisses up Kuroo’s neck until he reaches his mouth again. Their kisses remind him so much of high school he almost wants to roll his eyes. They’ve reached some sort of rhythm when it comes to sex, but the makeouts before feel just as warm and ridiculous as they used to. 

“There’s a lot of clothes in the way.” Kuroo grins when he pulls back, but his voice sounds thick and suggestive. “Plus that other arm of yours keeps falling off and my legs are going to fall asleep pressed against the armrest this hard.”

Kei tries to sit up, but just ends up shifting his weight so he can control his fall to the floor. He catches himself on his knees while Kuroo starts to slide to the other side of the couch. Kei takes his usual seat and looks over to where Kuroo already has his hand knotted in the back of his shirt, pulling it over his head. 

Shirt off, he leans back with a pleased smirk across the short distance to where Kei is sitting. 

Kuroo’s on the other side of the couch. 

The spot Kei can never sit in.

The part he tries to never look at because it’s empty when it never used to be.

For a moment, Kei swears he’s outside his body, watching himself being weird and silent and he tries to pull himself out of it. “You know,” he starts, finding his voice again, “I do have a whole bedroom right behind us.” If he can just get away from this couch, he can reset. 

“By all means,” Kuroo gestures, “lead the way.”

Kei gets up a little stiffly and when Kuroo puts his arms around his middle and slips his feet alongside his on the short journey he finds he can’t get back to how he wants to feel right now. Kei stops in the doorway.

Kuroo laughs against his neck and leaves a kiss, but Kei feels his arms loosen. “Everything alright?”

Kei’s a man of few words, but when he wields them, they’re often calculated or even prepared ahead of time, but he has nothing for this. He feels the warmth of Kuroo’s body against his back, his hips pressing against him, and there’s a part of him that is hungry and wants, but it’s grown quieter. The arms around him feel wonderful and he wants to lean back into the hold and let Kuroo run kisses up and down his neck until he’s undressing Kei and guiding him back to the bed.

But he can’t see Kuroo in that bed.

That’s not his place.

He bought that bed with Touma when they moved in together. No one else has been there. If he’s not going to be in it, then his side is supposed to be empty.

In the stillness of the room, Kuroo’s voice breaks through. “Tsukki?”

Kei grits his teeth. He pushes his tongue hard against the roof of his mouth. He swallows hard and blinks quickly. 

“Actually, can we - can this - I need -” Kei stutters. “Can we stop where we are? I need -” he searches his mind. Kei was the one who invited him over. It was going to be new but it was going to be fine and then it just wasn’t. “I think I need you to go.”

“Did I do something?” The arms around him drop completely. Kuroo’s voice sounds small. 

“No it’s not anything about you. I just need space.” Kei drops his head. “I know it’s weird, I know how stupid I sound right now, and maybe I can talk later,” He turns around, still hanging his head, “but now I need space.”

“Are you okay?” Kuroo doesn’t reach out to touch him, but he might as well be wrapping his arms around Kei and holding him close. His tone is concerned, filled with kindness that Kei doesn’t want right now. It’s kindness he doesn’t deserve right now, not when he’s acting like this.

“I’m fine. I just need to be alone.” He looks up finally to see Kuroo staring back at him, his expression a mixture of confusion and something else Kei can’t read.

There’s a few blundered goodbyes uttered, a few more words of worry shared as he picks up his shirt, and then Kuroo’s gone.

His apartment is back the way it should be and he hates it.

 

***

 

Kei>> Can you talk?

The reply from Tadashi comes some thirty minutes later. Kei’s in the shower, still and tense, letting the water pelt his back and roll down his sides. He hears the notification chime and gets out, skin pink from the hot water he had turned up as high as he could stand. 

Tadashi>> yea, sorry it took a while. Of course. Give me 10. Everything alright?

Kei>> Yea, maybe no.  
Kei>> I think I need to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's like everyone always says... "it's all fun and games until someone gets too anxious and sad."
> 
> I hate that life keeps being busy. Clearly I'd rather just write this instead of doing real work. Also, I feel like a broken record at this point, but this chapter was also revised to death until I felt like it could see the light of day. For that last scene, I was averaging about one sentence every ten minutes in my first draft. I HAD A VISION. I TRIED HARD. 
> 
> Thank you for always being so wonderful, readers! (oﾟ▽ﾟ)o


	7. He treats you like you’re so fragile.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei decides to drink his overthinking brain away, spends some time with friends as the weeks pass, and finally talks to Kuroo again.

On Friday, there aren’t any texts from Kuroo, not that Kei’s surprised. He wouldn’t be around himself either if he had any options. Listening to his own mind is exhausting and frustrating. He can’t imagine being on the receiving end of all that. 

Tadashi told Kei to talk to Kuroo. Not text. Call on the phone or go in person.

Kei goes out drinking instead. 

He knows that most of the engineering group is out with Touma on Fridays, but he texts the few he knows he can swing to his side by saying that he is stressed and wants to drink until his brain doesn’t work. Judging from the responses, his reputation from college still carries on. 

There’s only two kinds of drunk Kei. There’s one that drinks to celebrate and there’s one that drinks to switch off a clever mind that’s overthinking something (or, more likely, overthinking everything all at once). 

Eiko>> hell yea! Drunk Tsukishimaaaaaaaaa. Also hope everything is okay and we <3 you, but like, yessssssssss, see you tonight. 

Daiki>> LET’S GO.

Takumi>> wish it was for good reasons, but we’ll turn it around! I’m so in. Where are we meeting?

He couldn’t care less where they go. He just needs to get out and stop thinking. 

 

***

 

Kei wakes up on Eiko’s couch. He realizes where he is once he accidentally kicks his foot hard into the armrest of the small, white two-seater he’s currently scrunched up on and sees her distinctly purple walls. 

The apartment is silent except for the muffled noises of the world functioning like normal outside. Judging from the sun peeking through, it’s early in the morning - too early. His mouth feels like it’s filled with hot cotton and his stomach is obviously upset with his choices, but his head doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it could. He mentally high fives himself for remembering to drink water and, his secret, an entire sports drink before bed. He’s invincible. 

He starts to sit up, but quickly decides there’s still a high chance of throwing up. Plus it’s definitely too early to be awake anyway. He’s not hungover, he tries to rationalize, it’s just too early and he had too much sugar in the fourth or… so rum drink. He rethinks his invincibility. 

Also his shirt smells terrible, and that’s not helping the nausea situation. He takes it off and stuffs the lumpy throw pillow under the back of his head harder, but sleep won’t come.

Kei’s stuck, awake and recollecting pieces of the evening before. 

He checks the time on his phone, not even 8am yet, then cringes because he remembers texting Hinata. And Yachi. And Kageyama. And Tadashi. And the rest of the engineering crew. And, oh god, he definitely texted his brother. Drunk Kei thought it was very important to tell everyone how much he was enjoying himself. Drunk Kei feels the need to chat. 

Tadashi>> yea, alright. Glad you’re having fun. Drink water. Try not to go home with a stranger (usually whatever, just not right now). Be ready to talk feels with me this weekend. You can’t escape me!

Hinata>> TSUKISHIMA IS DRUNK  
Hinata>> drunk tsukishima is so fun  
Hinata>> but also handsy - gross  
Hinata>> I’m drunk too tobio says hellooooooooooooo

Kageyama>> I do not say hello

Akiteru>> you alright?   
Akiteru>> I’m here if you need me - anytime

Yachi>> why did you not call me? I would have come!   
Yachi>> probably. Maybe?  
Yachi>> I don’t know. I changed into pajamas at 8pm, so like, maybe not  
Yachi>> but I think I need a night out. we can drink and talk about how messed up we are. Yay! My favorite!

Thank god he didn’t send anything to Kuroo. No part of Kei ever gets dumb enough to do something like that. Not even Drunk Kei lets go of the present that much.

He sequences the night’s events. There’s the first stop - a small bar they used to go to in college where one of the bartenders still knows them. There they reminisced about the dumb stuff they did in college (it feels like a lifetime ago) and took turns whining about work. Then there’s pieces from a park where they chugged cheap beers from a convenient store on the walk to the next place, a club they always saved for the rare occasion someone really needed a night out. 

Kei remembers laughing louder, talking easily, smiling more, and it wasn’t just the steady supply of drinks in his hand. He turns onto his side on the couch and looks out the window. 

After that things are a little blurrier. He definitely made some questionable drink choices, too much mixing, and he probably danced, and he certainly has the feeling that he made out with someone. He recalls a man dropping next to him as he ordered a drink and remembers swaying with someone else’s hands on his hips, and there’s no way that didn’t end up somewhere, however briefly. 

Kei again applauds his ability to keep himself relatively together under the circumstances. He drank water. He didn’t text Kuroo. He didn’t go some with a random club stranger. Check. Check. Check. 

He rolls his knees up tighter to his chest and yawns, intentionally dropping his phone to the floor and closing his eyes. 

When he opens them again, it’s because Eiko’s in the kitchen a few feet from Kei’s head making coffee. The clang of the cups followed by the unnerving sound of the mechanical grinder startle him awake. 

“Good afternoon, sunshine.” She calls over to him, not glancing over. “Shirt off, huh? You decide to get sexy on my couch last night?” She snorts, still busy with her task.

“No, my shirt just smells terrible, like sweat and spilled booze. Also good afternoon.” He rubs his face and sits up to face her, back against the armrest, legs stretched out for the first time in hours. His knees and ankles creek with the motion. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“No problem. I figured if you went back with Takumi you two would keep drinking, Daiki lives with his parents, and you, like, were not going to correctly navigate trains all alone.” She turns around after setting the electric kettle to boil. “And you know me, I was going to worry.” She flourishes, playing up the drama, holding one arm out wide and the other clutched over her heart. She pauses with one arm in front of her. “Oh jeeze, don’t worry about your shirt. My skin smells like I’m sweating vodka.” 

Kei breathes out a laugh and rests his head on the arm supported by the armrest. “I know the feeling. I’ll pay for any permanent damage to your couch. But maybe I just made it smell like rum?”

“Ooh, tropical.” She deadpans. The kettle pops and Eiko busies herself pouring it over the filters above the two mugs. Kei considers putting his shirt back on, but when he scoops it up, it still feels sweaty and awful. He lays it out flat and shuts his eyes again. 

He feels a tug on one of his legs a few moments later and lets his feet fall to the floor. “Scoot, scoot,” she mumbles as she takes her place on the couch and hands Kei a mug. 

He takes it gratefully and sits as far over as he can, body pressing alongside the arms of the couch. Four kittens in a basket look back at him from their ceramic home before he tilts the mug and smiles at the black liquid within, no cream, no sugar. “Thanks.” He says and he has to clear his throat, sleep still clogging his mind and body. 

“You’re welcome, mister no-shirt.” She looks pleased with herself, then takes a sip from her own mug adorned with multicolored polka dots, all with smiling faces.

Kei rolls his eyes and pulls the throw pillow in front of him and rests his arms against it. 

Eiko turns on the TV and he’s greeted by a panel of overexcited reporters around a semi-circle desk animatedly, but politely, discussing the apparent truth of a celebrity’s new romance. Kei raises an eyebrow at the choice. She shrugs in return and doesn’t change the channel. “I like it. It’s good morning TV.” She stares forward.

“It’s almost 1pm. We missed morning.”

“No way. We were still crushing it when it was early morning. We killed the morning. And now our reward is a lazy afternoon.”

Kei hums in approval. 

They sit together and drink coffee, distracted by the sounds of courteous and forced shock and awe from the panel until Kei’s coffee is done and he sets the mug down on the floor.

“So, what are you running from this time? Want to talk about it?” Eiko keeps staring at the TV.

“No, not at all.” 

“Good, me neither.”

“You running from anything?”

“Always.” She chuckles. “But you already knew that.”

Kei leaves about an hour after that, laughing about getting to see her again in just a few hours for game night. He puts his shirt back on after letting it dry out and thinks about a hot shower the whole train ride home.

Except for when he texts Yachi to ask if she wants to do lunch or dinner next week. 

He’s careful not to scroll too far down his inbox when he searches for her name. 

 

***

 

On Tuesday, Kuroo sends him some meme about work. 

Kei replies vaguely.

The message dies. 

Kei doesn’t hear from Kuroo again. Two Fridays pass and Kei spends them texting with Tadashi and watching documentaries on his couch. 

 

***

 

On Wednesday, Kei gets off work and sees a string of messages in the group chat. 

Hinata>> hello hello hellooooo good news!  
Hinata>> my family just got a deal on tokyo disney tickets! tobio and me and everybody are going on saturday, like this saturday, the one coming up in a few days  
Hinata>> last minute deal yes!  
Hinata>> but we thought we could come down earlier on Friday and see you guys first!

Kageyama>> you thought that

Hinata>> nooooope, it was YOUR suggestion first. softy.   
Hinata>> you guys free on friday? 

Yachi>> I am! What do you have in mind?  
Yachi>> and how early are you going to be here?

Hinata>> not that early, I still have to finish a whole school day, but we can take the train and be there by, like, a late-ish dinner? or we eat on the train and just go out somewhere? I really don’t care! 

Kei scrolls through several lines of back and forth between Hinata and Yachi swapping ideas about what they could do. 

Kei>> I’ll be there.

Hinata>> Alright! So late dinner then a drink or two nothing crazy because I have to get up early and live my very best disney life the next day 

Kageyama>> help me

Hinata>> I’m going to buy you ears. You will wear them.  
Hinata>> YOU’LL ALL GET EARS.

For as far into the future as Kei can see, his fridays are free. 

 

***

 

A few hours ago, the night began quietly with a late evening dinner filled with self-indulgent bar foods at a place near Hinata’s old university. The place had expanded since their last visit, buying and then knocking down the wall separating the existing bar and the nail salon next door. It felt weird sitting around a brand new wooden table in chairs with cushions that hadn’t been crushed into mere whispers of fabric over the years. Familiar but new. Safe but mildly uncomfortable.

Conversation had flowed normally enough, as normal as it could with one loudmouth, one anxious talker, and three tight-lipped, sarcastic men. Hinata and Yachi led the night, as they always did. They went back and forth so quickly about work and Yachi’s new maybe relationship that for a while it was hard to get a word in edgewise. That was fine. Preferable actually. It was always fun to watch the two of them go back and forth like no one else existed until one of them remembered they had company and tried to pull them all back in. 

Kenma occasionally chimed in with one liners at Hinata’s expense or genuinely sincere comments that still caught Kei off guard. At one point his eyes had drifted up from the table so he could add that it was dumb for Yachi to feel so nervous since she was obviously a nice person. For someone who in the past, and probably still, only came to these things to see Hinata, he wasn’t as muted as Kei remembered. 

Kageyama was another thing entirely. For all the times Hinata strong-armed Kei into an outing during college, Kageyama rarely showed up -- for one thing, they weren’t always together. This new side of him, though? The “I have a live-in boyfriend and I love him very much” version of Kageyama was almost distressing in its honesty. When Hinata, cheeks pink from greasy food and beer, would lean on his shoulder, he’d glance down and share a little smile from the corner of his mouth.

Kei found that it was still easier to talk around these friends than most. They weren’t Yamaguchi, but they occupied a space between his best friend and his college friends. His engineering group knew Kei and all of his recent triumphs and failures. This group knew far more about him. Each one here, Kenma excluded unless Hinata had blabbed, knew who Kei was so many years ago and had watched him change, for better and for worse, over the past few years. This group knew too much about him and liked him anyway. With them, he could drink a little, remember the past, and forget the present.

With this group, he could talk about memories, he could talk about work, he could complain about his apartment, but when it came time to discuss any current relationships, he simply said, “nothing good to report,” with a shrug. And though it was quick, Kei caught Kenma staring straight at him. 

Now, with the hours sneaking by, the night was no longer quiet. Kei forgot a cardinal rule: never go to a second location with Hinata Shouyou. 

When the strangeness of the remodeled bar grew to be too much, but Hinata wasn’t ready to go to the hotel yet, he dragged everyone to another bar down the street. The last one had wooden tables, big mugs of beer, and older men snacking on fried chicken. This one has dim lights, neon signs, drinks with stupid names, and a live band. If it weren’t for the smile on Hinata’s face, a few beers, and the knowledge that he had nowhere else to be, Kei would have made his exit immediately. 

Instead, Kei finds himself perched on a stool with a sleepy Yachi burrowing hard into his arm. Every couple of minutes, she perks up, looks around, tries to start a screamed conversation over the loud music, then ends up leaning over as her words grow quieter and he makes sure his shoulder is there for her to fall on. 

He hears someone settle in beside him and bristles when he registers that they’ve sit much too closely. He tries to ignore it, scoot over a little, but he feels a tap on his arm. Ready to shoot a look, he twists his head to find Kageyama next to him. 

Careful not to jostle Yachi, he turns a little so his back isn’t facing him. “Thought you’d still be out there with those two.” He yells over the music, motioning his head towards the floor in front of the band where bodies are jumping to the music. 

Kageyama shrugs. “Hinata’s already made plenty of new friends.” He clears his throat. “Apparently Kenma-san’s seen the band before, so they’re well occupied.” Kageyama looks as tired as Kei feels. He hasn’t checked his phone in a while, it’s in the pocket buried under the small, blonde creature on his arm, but he knows it’s getting late. 

“Having fun?” He shouts, not knowing what else to say. The two of them don’t talk often without the others around. 

“It’s nice to be out of Miyagi for a bit, I guess, and Hinata’s happy, so…” he trails off, clearing his throat again after yelling his response. 

Kei turns back to his almost empty drink and the music dies down, the band announcing a fifteen minute break. 

“Your dog’s cute.” Kei reaches for another topic, unsure why he can’t let the silence just stay. He inwardly cringes. He feels like he has to talk to him, to prove that they’re - what? - friends even without the others around.

Kageyama’s mouth remains a flat line for a few moments too long before he replies. “She’s a lot to handle, but we like her.” He yawns. “Things are good.” And Kei sees it again, that little smile at the corner of his mouth. It’s less unnerving than last time, and Kei’s pretty sure he’s seen Kageyama smile before, but it still catches him off-guard. 

“TO-BI-O!” Hinata bounces back in, arms up and grinning from an extrovert people-high. He roughly wraps both of his arms around Kageyama and pushes his cheek into his back, facing Kei. Kenma trails behind him. 

Kageyama’s smile grows a bit wider. “You ready to go to the hotel? You still have to be awake for Disney tomorrow.”

“Nah, I’m still awake, and I will be tomorrow, too!” He stands back up. “But the rest of you are sleepy, so that’s fine by me. I just wanted to see you guys for as long as possible.” He throws an arm around Kenma. 

Yachi stirs at the sound of his voice and sits back up, embarrassed by the new audience. “Long week,” she yawns, “but a fun Friday.”

The group pays their tabs and walks out into the night to go their separate ways - Hinata, Kageyama, and Yachi on the subway, Kenma on his short walk home, and Kei to the train station. Hinata hugs Kenma and Kei hard before he bounces off with the other two, shouting back over his shoulder, “text me when you get home safely!” 

Kei turns to walk away but feels a tug on his sleeve. 

Kenma’s eyes are glued to his when he turns back around. 

“You need to call Kuroo.” He says, then drops his eyes back towards the ground. “Not text, call. He’s up.”

He stares down at the part where Kenma’s blonde hair meets his forehead, unable to see his eyes. Kei digs for a retort. He takes too long.

“You did this before, you know.” Kenma’s voice is flat. He looks up again, but doesn’t quite meet his gaze. He sighs, sounding tired. “I don’t get --” he pauses “whatever all that is, but he treats you like you’re so fragile and it’s irritating. Just call him.”

Kei has never been called fragile in his life. His mind sorts through retorts. ‘I’m not fragile.’ ‘This isn’t any of your business.’ Just turn around and walk away. ‘Kuroo is as much to blame for the past as me.’ He lands on one before he can craft it any better. 

“I don’t see how you’re in a position to say any of this to me.” 

Kenma looks up again, shoulders still stooped forward, his face relaxed, but his eyes send the message. “Just call.”

 

***

 

He stands outside the bar, staring at his inbox, for a solid five minutes before doing anything. He’s lazily walking towards the station, staring at his screen. The word “fragile” keeps running through his mind. What on earth did Kenma mean? The whole time he’s known Kuroo, he’s messed with him the same way he messes with anyone else. He makes comments. He gets reactions. It’s his fuel.

Kei sends a text. 

Kei>> Hey. How was your week?

Fragile? No.

Strong-willed and full of regrets? Sure. 

He waits for a signal that Kuroo’s typing, but it doesn’t come. People jostle pass him as his walk towards the station slows until he’s barely putting one foot in front of the other.

Kei’s tired. He’s had a good night. He didn’t want this. But as soon as Kenma said that, he couldn’t stop the chain of anxious wondering.

And he’s not fragile. Just frustrated. He groans aloud to no one and presses the call button. 

It rings three times before he hears that deep voice on the other end. “Tsukki! To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Kei winces at the overly-pleasant tone. Then he’s struck with the realization that he has planned nothing to say. “Kenma told me to call.” 

“Oh, tha--”

“And I wanted,” he spits out, “to see how you are.”

“Thanks,” he pauses, “I’m good. My week was pretty good.”

Kei scrunches his face and relaxes it again. He rips off the emotionally awkward bandage. “Sorry I was weird.” He says it quickly, words mixing together, a pained expression on his face. He’s only marginally mortified that he was weird. He’s used to that. No, what’s making his insides crawl into themselves is talking about it out loud. To a human person. Over the phone. 

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” Kuroo repeats, slower the second time. 

The call goes silent. Kei chews his lip, now standing still in the middle of a sidewalk. “Okay well, good-”

“Do you want-” 

They speak at the same time, each cutting off themselves abruptly once they notice. 

“Go ahead.” Kei says.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to get a drink, but you sound like you’re ready to go to bed. And if you saw Kenma, that’s got to mean shrimpy’s in town, so you’ve probably been already dragged somewhere loud and fun. I’ll let you get home.”

“Yea, I am tired.” He starts. And it’s true. He should go to sleep. He should hang up the phone. He should take some real time actually alone to figure out some things about himself. He should, he should, he should - “But I’m already out. Where are you now?”

Kuroo’s tone rings through more like himself, less uncertain like he was avoiding stepping on broken glass. He’s several stops away, but it’s not bad. Maybe fifteen minutes if he catches the right train at the right time. They end the call and Kei walks with purpose, leaving a trail of “you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t-” in his wake. 

 

***

 

Outside of his third bar of the night, Kei feels a strange mix of exhaustion and panic, like his eyes want to shut and his brain wants to give into the warm hum of alcohol, but his eyes are stitched open and his muscles feel like they’re carrying a soft but incessant vibration throughout his body. 

No one comes in or out as he stands outside of the small, two-story row of stores. He’s in front of a nondescript door marked only with a building number. He can’t hear any music or, really, any voices, and he’s sure he’s got the wrong place somehow even though the followed all the correct directions Kuroo texted him. 

His arms feel tense when he opens the door. He’s greeted by a small, dark room with a curved bar along one wall and wooden, old-fashioned looking booths along the walls. The only lights come from the bar and some low-hanging lamps above a few booths. It’s dark and there’s a few groups of people inside, but Kuroo is unmistakable. 

The bartender looks up from his conversation with Kuroo to greet the new customer. He grins and tilts his head in Kei’s direction. Kuroo turns and it’s not a smirk, not his winning toothy grin, but a soft smile that greets him. Whatever voice Kei had attempted to muster catches in his throat. 

Leaning on one arm, palm holding up his head, Kuroo lazily waves him over. 

“Your friends here?” Kei asks, taking a seat next to him, but leaving as much distance as he can. He’s acutely aware of his arms and legs as he tries to settle in, cursing the fact that they poke out at odd angles and bump the underside of the bar top. 

Kuroo casts a look to either side. “Don’t I look lonely?” A weak laugh escapes. “They left a little while ago.” Kei notices Kuroo’s free hand is picking at the hem of his shirt. 

The bartender places a drink in front of Kei. 

“I didn’t order--”

“I paid before you got here, and you don’t order at this bar. Kazu here takes a look at you and decides what you need.” The bartender nods appreciatively but otherwise keeps his distance. “Or more like, there are those of us that come here come here way too often and he knows our poison of choice and assumes our blonde friends want it, too.”

“Thanks.” Kei lets the drink sit in front of him, runs a finger over the textured glass.

A silence settles in between them and Kei feels like he’s being tested. Kuroo will glance and look away, nothing drastic, but there’s aspiration in the looks he gives him. 

He’s torn. On the one hand, fuck this. The whole situation is nothing he needs right now. The physical release and, if he’s honest, the company is welcome, but he doesn’t have the mental faculties to handle anything else right now. On the other hand - you did this before - even if his brain ignored it, some part of the twisted up feeling in his guts lately had been from their last interaction. 

Kei asks about work instead. He’s surprised to find he’s genuinely interested. His inbox had been far emptier lately and he found himself wishing messages would pop up during his long commute home. Kei fills him in on his job, talks about Tadashi, the book he’s reading, and then suddenly there’s an empty glass in front of him. 

The words might be falling from both their mouths, but there are obvious calculations behind Kuroo’s responses. Add that to the fact that Kei always attempts to run his speech through hundreds of filters before it’s given life and the end result is a longer conversation with very little substance. 

That used to be most of what Kei wanted. Outside of Tadashi, opening up - not even being vulnerable, just saying something truly honest - was impossible for so long. Then the other first years wormed their way into his comfort zone. Then his engineering friends. And it still sucked to speak sincerely. But also it didn’t. 

Friends laughed. Sympathized. Friends brought food or wine. Friends made jokes so Kei could see how what seemed like an insurmountable mountain to him was really some stupid drama. Friends let him stay over when he didn’t want to be alone. 

Alone.

_You did this before._

_He treats you like you’re so fragile._

“Kenma called me fragile.” He looks straight at Kuroo when he says it, hoping he conveys - what - anger? Disbelief? A shred of vulnerability? Then he gives up and goes back to staring at his empty glass. 

Kuroo snorts. “He what?”

“I mean, he didn’t say it exactly, more like indirectly.” Kei tugs on the part of his shirt around his wrist.

“That is never a word anyone should use to describe you.”

“I agree.”

“You want to know what words I would use?” There it is. The tone Kei’s used to. The one that sounds like if a smirk had a voice of its own. 

“No.”

Kei doesn’t have to look up to imagine the look on his face now. This, this is comfortable territory. His shoulders relax. He looks up from the bartop and meets Kuroo’s gaze. Sure enough, he’s grinning. And waiting. Kei raises an eyebrow. 

“You said no.” Kuroo replies frankly. 

Kei shrugs, appearing unamused. He’ll call his bluff. 

“Clever. Intriguing. Devastatingly attractive.” Kuroo looks right at him when he says it. 

He feels the tips of his ears burn, but the rest of his face remains flat. “Yes. Maybe. I wouldn’t know.”

“And me?”

“Hm?” Kei feigns confusion. 

Kuroo leans in closer. He speaks slowly, accentuating syllables with exaggerated movements of his mouth. “Which words would you use for me?” 

Kei leans back and looks him up and down, taps a finger to his chin. “Driven. Unusual. Moderately attractive.”

“I’ll take it.” He laughs and Kei drinks in the sound and the sensation of Kuroo’s hand on his knee, inching up, as they fall back into easy conversation. 

After that, a few of Kei’s filters start to drop away. He blames his night of drinking. He knows that’s not the case. Kuroo’s back to his normal self, too, and Kei wonders if he doesn’t have to explain everything with Kuroo. Maybe he just gets it. But that can’t be true. Kei doesn’t get himself. 

When Kuroo goes to the bathroom, he checks his phone and realizes the last train leaves in less than an hour. Somewhere in the back of his mind a panic alarm sounds, but he forcefully muffles it. 

“So we can stay here and keep spending all of our money…” Back at their spots, Kuroo doesn’t sit. He leans over into Kei’s space, his voice barely above a whisper, anything louder unnecessary to close the short distance. “Or you can come back to my place and we make up for lost time.” 

Kei feels that welcome, familiar pinch in his stomach. He takes a deep breath and on his exhale he replies, just as softly, “I think I’d like to see your place again.” 

“Good, it’s just as messy.”

“You’ll have to pick me up again, then.”

“I’ll do more than that.”

They pay and he feels Kuroo’s hand run up and down his back. He feels a pang of mortal embarrassment before he realizes their company is either the bartender or patrons too drunk to notice anything.

They leave and start the short journey to Kuroo’s and manage to make it a few feet down the sidewalk before Kuroo ducks beside a building a pulls Kei on top of him. His kisses are hot and sloppier than usual. They’re both exhausted, after all, but Kei feels warm and alive when Kuroo’s hands thread through his hair, his tongue slides into his mouth, and his body moves beneath his. He shoves down the last remnants of his worry and reservation. He moans as they break apart.

Kuroo smiles. “I like this side of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, sweet readers! I'm happy to have this up for the long weekend (if you live in the States). Life has been crazy busy and carving out writing time was difficult over the past few weeks, but here you go! (And about 1k of the next chapter is already done. It was supposed to be in here and then it just... didn't fit yet.)
> 
> You are all so, so wonderful. I hope you enjoyed it! I do this for yooooooooou.  
> (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧


	8. For what it’s worth, I like being around you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei goes home with Kuroo after his third bar of the night.
> 
> That's it. That's the whole chapter. Enjoy, sinnamon rolls. (๑・ω-)～♥”

The moment shoes fly off at the door, Kuroo does, in fact, pick him up. Kei grins and wraps his long legs around his middle, thankful Kuroo’s still strong enough to do that. Their movements are already a blur and Kei just feels the sensation of hands holding him up, his mouth claiming Kuroo’s again and again, until Kei’s back hits the mattress and Kuroo falls hard on top of him.

When Kuroo comes up for air they’re both gasping for breath. Kei takes one look at his disheveled hair, the look on his face, and he doesn’t know why, but he laughs. He laughs hard, his eyes crinkling and his mouth wide open. 

Kuroo looks down at him, confused, but then it breaks, leaving a grin and a few bouts of laughter. “How drunk are you?” He ventures. 

Kei lets out a deep breath. “Enough to be less self-conscious, not so much that you have to worry about why I want this.” He threads his fingers through Kuroo’s hair. “You?”

To answer, Kuroo leaves a trail of hot kisses down his jawline to his neck. 

Kei retorts. “You have to answer. I want to hear you say it.” 

“Same as you.” Kuroo breathes into his neck. He pulls back and rests on his palms around Kei’s head. “Not drunk enough to forget how much I’ve thought about you being here, just like this.” He closes his eyes, when they open again his voice is lower and he dips down to whisper along Kei’s ear. “It’s been a while. I miss the way you feel.” He slides his fingers through Kei’s and holds them down on the bed. “I miss how I feel inside you.”

Kei bites his lip and a groan rumbles through his throat. 

Somewhere through the haze, though, a thought cuts through. “Wait,” he pushes on Kuroo’s chest with some effort. “I’m gross.”

Kuroo laughs and goes back in for another round.

Kei pushes him back again. “No really, I haven’t been home since this morning. I’ve been to three bars. I’m gross.”

Kuroo seems to ponder this for a moment, the phrases cutting through a fog. “I have a shower.” He starts slowly. “And I can provide company.” He stutters the last bit. 

Kei’s grateful for the short trek from Kuroo’s bed to his bathroom. It gives him less time to start thinking again. Less time to consider how this is crossing some of his lines, how he probably should’ve gotten the last train home, how this whole situation feels too juvenile when he stops and thinks - but he doesn’t want to think. Kei just wants to feel. 

There’s hot water on his skin. There are lips and calloused hands skimming over his body. There’s the taste of Kuroo under the streams of water. There’s his own growing heat in his abdomen. He gives in to the warmth of Kuroo’s body wrapped around his, arms pulling him in closer. 

“At some point, I guess we could get clean.” Kuroo’s voice comes out deep and breathy.

Having Kuroo pressed against him, both of them breathing heavily, arms and legs tangled while Kuroo talks about actually showering sounds so dumb. Kei snorts.

It’s not much different than before, except roaming hands now carry soap and a promise of at least pretending something chaste is happening. 

Kei turns around and slips back into Kuroo’s hold. He presses his whole body against him and lifts his arms past his head to tug on Kuroo’s wet hair and neck. “That’s better.” 

Kuroo groans and Kei can feel the vibrations in his chest. Kuroo’s hand creeps down his body until its wrapped around Kei’s growing length. Kei breathes in sharply at the contact, his eyes closing, body relaxing. His hands fall forward to the tile a few inches in front of him. Kei feels Kuroo shift and then there’s a length of heat pressing against his backside, lining up with him but not entering. 

Kuroo pumps his hand and slides between Kei’s thighs. He pauses. Kei sighs and he pumps his hand faster but slides in and out slowly, drawing noises from himself and Kei that echo off the tile walls. 

He stops abruptly and spins Kei around, dropping to his knees. Kei holds his breath at the sight before him. Kuroo on his knees, slick from the shower, eyes looking up at him hungrily. 

As Kuroo slides his mouth down slowly, Kei sighs, the escaping sound more like a whine than he wanted, but he needs more now. One hand rests on the back of Kuroo’s head, and the other digs in to his shoulder as he feels a single finger trace up his thigh and enter him. 

He throws his head back, and maybe it hits too hard on the tile behind him, but he can hardly notice anything. All the nerves in his body are focused on Kuroo’s tongue, his mouth as he hums, one finger moving inside him, slowly becoming two, becoming three, pulsing in one singular rhythm, hooking when Kuroo knows he’s found the best spot. Then, Kei is gasping for breath, trying to tell Kuroo he’s close, but no words come, only louder cries and then he feels his release.

Kuroo swallows at first, then pumps him through the rest of it, letting Kei spill on his chin and chest. Kei’s back hits the wall and it’s cold but welcome. He stares at Kuroo washing himself clean. He’s smirking but Kei is too boneless to care. 

“You ready?” Kuroo asks but doesn’t wait for a reply. He closes the short distance and kisses Kei with renewed intensity. 

With the water off, Kei pulls Kuroo back towards his room with lingering kisses and the promise of more. He pushes him down until he’s sitting on his bed. He smirks when Kuroo tries to pull him onto his lap, shaking his head. Just like Kuroo did earlier he starts to lower himself down, but stops when Kuroo’s hands land on his shoulders. 

“I’m grateful for the appreciation, but that’s not what I need right now.” Kuroo stares straight at him and Kei hangs onto the word ‘need.’ 

He moves forward and straddles Kuroo’s thighs, leaning forward to whisper, “what do you need, Kuroo-san?” 

Kei pulls his head back and Kuroo replies with insistent kisses that help pull Kei back to where he was before.

Kuroo finally replies against his lips. “I need you on my bed on your hands and knees.”

Kei thinks back to the shower. He hums in agreement. Slowly he backs out of Kuroo’s hold and sets his feet on the floor. He takes his time, keeping eye contact with Kuroo until the moment he turns around with his hands and knees making wet imprints in the sheets, little droplets falling from his hair onto Kuroo’s pillow. 

He hears the familiar opening and closing of Kuroo’s bedside drawer and he prepares himself for how sensitive he’s going to feel. Kuroo’s slick fingers behind him are cold and he swallows hard waiting for what’s next. Kei hears Kuroo moan above him and then there’s no time to wait because he’s already driving himself in deep. 

Kei throws his head back and yells with pleasure which only makes Kuroo thrust harder. He’s moving in and out slowly, and Kei loses himself in the sensation. He folds himself down onto his forearms, turning his head to lie on Kuroo’s pillow, a low whine communicating that he needs more. 

Kuroo moves his hands to dig into Kei’s hips and he starts to thrust more quickly. Kei fists his hands into the sheets and listens to Kuroo groan above him, letting the sounds drown out the last of his thoughts about anything outside of this room. 

Kuroo’s pace is unrelenting until he suddenly stops. Kei gasps at the lack of movement, his body aching for more. He feels Kuroo’s body fall against his, hands framing his upper body. “I missed this.” Kuroo says near his face, his voice thick with want. 

Then he’s moving again, slower like before, driving each thrust deeper than the one before it until even he can’t hold back. He pulls himself back upright, fingers finding purchase on Kei’s hips once more, and draws his orgasm from Kei’s body, thrusting erratically until Kei collapses fully onto the bed, a panting Kuroo right behind him. 

They stay like that for longer than Kei would normally allow, breathing heavily and together, until Kei finds his voice. “Get off.” He’s surprised by how quiet his voice is. He forces out more volume. “You’re heavy.”

Kuroo hums and remains in place. He even moves his head up from Kei’s back to settle into the space between his face and his shoulder, landing so their cheeks are touching. “What if I didn’t?”

Kei fidgets until Kuroo lifts his head a little. “You’d crush me and we couldn’t do this again.”

Kuroo makes a sound like he thinking. “I weighed my options. You win.” He places a kiss on Kei’s cheek before carefully pulling out. Kei flinches at the tug of friction along sensitive nerves but relaxes into the mattress, melting on his stomach into the sheets below him. 

When Kuroo settles back onto the bed, he might as well still be on top of Kei. He drapes himself over his body and dramatically yawns. Kei turns his head so that they’re facing one another.

“You staying the night?” Kuroo asks.

Kei rolls his eyes. “Obviously. The last train’s gone.” 

Kuroo looks like he’s fighting a losing battle with his expression. The flat line of his mouth doesn’t hold and he smiles. “Good. I don’t hate that.”

They lie like that for a while, Kei turning his head back to face the other way, until eventually Kuroo gets up to shut off the lights and go to the kitchen. He brings back two glasses of water and Kei props himself up to drink it before setting it next to Kuroo’s already empty glass on the bedside table, lit only by Kuroo’s charging phone and the thin slats of light creeping in through Kuroo’s bedroom blinds. 

When Kuroo lies back down, he claims his own spot, thankfully off of Kei’s body, but close. “I’m a kicker.” He warns.

Sleep tugs at Kei’s eyelids. “I’ll kick you back.” Kei folds his knees up towards his body, a sleeping habit leftover from years of being too long for most beds. 

It’s hard to ignore how tired he is, even with the warm hum of alcohol long gone from his body. His whole body feels heavy and content, enough to silence any annoying thoughts beginning to sneak back in towards the forefront of his mind. He steadies his breathing, counting in his head as he holds his breath and lets it out in his own secret ritual. 

Kuroo stirs on the other side of the bed, startling Kei who assumed he was nearing sleep by now. “How’d your last relationship end?” His voice sounds loud in the hushed room. 

“That’s what you want to talk about?” Kei groans into the pillow. “Right now? When we’re naked, wrapped up in your sheets, at 3 AM?”

“I mean, I could put on some pants if that’s a problem, but I’d rather not.”

“I think being naked was only one of the problems.”

“No, but for real.”

“Go to sleep, Kuroo.” Kei replies, his back still facing him. He tucks the corner of the pillow under him. 

He hears Kuroo roll over and flip his pillow - once, twice, three times. A few minutes pass before he feels him roll over again, flipping the pillow a few more times.

“Go to sleep or I’ll call a cab and not be here in the morning.” He threatens. 

“I can’t get comfortable. My thoughts are making me uncomfortable, so now the bed is uncomfortable, too.” Kuroo whines to Kei’s back. 

“Your mattress is just old.” Kei keeps deflecting, ready to sleep and unwilling to let talking lead to thinking lead to wanting to actually call a taxi and go home. 

“Do you really not want to talk?”

“We don’t really do that.” Kei starts. He glances at Kuroo’s phone on the table next to him, looking at the time. “But I guess if you want to talk, I can’t stop you.” He rolls from his side onto his back, looking up at the lines of light on Kuroo’s ceiling. “I’ll listen,” he pauses, “until I fall asleep.”

Kei feels the bed dip as Kuroo moves closer and starts talking. “I asked you that because I ran into my ex a few days ago. We run in the same art circles, so it happens every now and then, but it never stopped being terrible. It’s been a few years now, but I get so sick everytime I see him, you know?”

Kei stays still, his hands resting on top of his stomach. Of course he knows. Swiftly the thoughts he tried to keep at bay poke through the walls he built. 

“He was a really bad guy, Tsukki. It took me way too long to realize it. All my old friends could see it right away, but my college friends all had these edgy, even toxic, relationships and it just seemed fine.” Kuroo keeps pausing between phrases. “It took me forever to feel better and everytime I see him at events or whatever, being charming and getting everyone to smile, I want to scream, ‘he’s bad! He’s like the literal devil!” Kuroo laughs, but it’s quiet, soft and sad. “I was twelve years younger than him, this hot older guy’s plaything, and seeing him just makes me feel like shit for days.”

A knowing silence falls between them. “Look, there’s a reason I was weird the other week.” He screws his eyes shut.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s fine.”

Kei ignores the comment. He stares holes into the ceiling. “A few months ago I was dumped out of nowhere after three years of being together and everything kind of sucked for a while. Kind of still does.” 

Kuroo waits. Kei hears the sheets shift beside him again. He falls still. “Were you happy?”

That’s not what Kei was expecting. No one’s ever asked him that. “I thought so. I was right up until he called me ‘too distant’ and said I’d never change.”

“Why should you have to change?”

“To be someone another person wants to be around?”

Kuroo rolls onto his back. “Relationships are whatever you want them to be. You can decide the terms and find someone, or plenty of someones, who agree with you. There’s no right way.”

There certainly seemed to be wrong way and Kei had figured that out at least twice, three times if you count the awkward mutual breakup that happened after his summer of “let’s figure out my identify before I go to college!” He knew all the wrong ways to stay with someone. 

“And,” Kuroo continues, “for what it’s worth, I like being around you.” 

Kei feels his body freeze. He wants to crawl so far into himself that he ceases to exist. He couldn’t stand to see Kuroo’s face right now. What he needs is a joke, a cutting remark. 

He stays silent. ‘I don’t know why.’ He keeps the comment inside himself, listening to Kuroo fall still beside him. His breathing steadies and Kei figures he’s asleep. Kei closes his eyes and wills himself to let sleep take over, slowly at first, then all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is far shorter than the others, but I typed those last few paragraphs and went "oh... oh that is where this chapter ends."
> 
> I try to gush as much as I can in the comments, but can I just take a minute to tell you all how much I appreciate you, lovely readers? When I check my email and see that there are more kudos, more comments, or I see I have more subscribers or bookmarks, I just feel overwhelmed in the best kind of way. I started writing fanfiction again just because I wanted to give back to this awesome fandom and then you all responded in a way that made me not just want to write more, but also, like, have better days outside of Ao3. Like in my regular life. When my job is meh. And life stuff is meh. I feel more awesome because there is this thing that I make and I post and then people press a little kudos button or leave a comment or chat with me on tumblr and, honestly, it's the best. You're literally improving my quality of life. Thank you, really, thank you. ⊂(◉‿◉)つ
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this story. I hope you like how it's developing!


	9. This is all I can do.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei wakes up at Kuroo's place, they spend the morning together, Kei comes home to some mail from Tadashi, and later gets an unwelcome text message.

Kei wakes up and grabs for his phone out of habit. He’s surprised when his hand falls not onto his bedside table, but onto a bundle of sheets beside him. His head jolts up from the pillow which he’s now realizing is softer than he’s used to. And the sheets aren’t white. And he’s naked. 

He shuts his eyes again and sighs. Kuroo’s not in the room, but he can hear noises beyond the door. His confidence from the previous night is a shell of its former self, but he can’t say he regrets finding himself here on a Saturday morning. It’s just going to be awkward. 

Kei’s body tenses everytime he hears footsteps near the door, but Kuroo doesn’t enter. He pulls the sheets around his middle as he sits up, finding his glasses and putting them on. 

He’s been in Kuroo’s room plenty of times, but he’s never really seen it. The walls are the same sad off-white as most apartments, but the walls are covered in art, some in frames, some not. He always assumed they were hung randomly, as Kuroo found space, but in the morning light from the now-open blinds, he sees that they flow in color temperature out from the door. There are a mix of cold colors, fading to cooler tones, then warmer and warmer until they meet at the other end with hot reds and oranges. 

Kei notices the clothes that were on the floor last night have been put into a hamper and that the books that he’d nearly tripped on are piled up along the wall now. 

Either Kuroo had moved softly this morning or Kei had slept like the dead for the first time in ages. Judging by the horrible morning breath and groggy morning brain, he assumes the latter. Kei wants to brush his teeth, probably rinse off in the shower at least, but he’s not in his own house. He freezes in place, calculating his next few moves. 

He sits up straight and takes in a deep breath, lets it out slowly while counting. He repeats the familiar ritual, reminding himself that these steps are important, even if they take place in someone else’s apartment. The little Tadashi voice that lives in his head repeats the string of now-familiar, but still cheesy, positive words. Kei’s glad Kuroo’s blind is already open. At least some part of his routine can happen normally. 

He listens for footsteps passing the door and, hearing none, ventures out from the covers to place two feet on the floor, one sheet still wrapped around him. The tugging causes something to drop to the floor. Kei looks down to see a pair of pajama pants and a shirt.

He picks them up and sets them back on the bed before heading to the small bathroom, grateful that there’s an entrance from the bedroom. He gets as far as he can before he drops the sheet and clears the rest of the space in between as quickly as he can. 

Surrounded by blue tile, Kei again notices details he’d never seen before. There are little plastic figurines on the back of the toilet and even more lining the windowsill that vents above the shower. Kuroo has all of his toiletries strewn around the room carelessly. Kei keeps everything where it needs to be. Kuroo, apparently, thinks face wash and conditioner need to be together, while shampoo and toothpaste are on another shelf entirely. 

He turns to the mirror and sees fingerprints on his hips. He knows if he turns around there’ll be some on his back, but with the shower right next to him, he’s already remembering enough and he needs to get his bearings before too much more time passes. He has no idea how long Kuroo’s been awake. He doesn’t need to make it any weirder. 

Kei rinses off in the shower, dries off with a fresh towel hung up, he assumes, for him, and brushes his teeth with an unopened toothbrush by the sink. It’s thoughtful. It eases his stress. 

Kuroo seems very prepared for this type of guest. 

He's not sure if that thought comforts him, takes away the pressure, or stirs up something worse in the back of his mind.

Kei stares at his reflection in the mirror, borrowed toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He gently pokes at the bags under his eyes, noticing that they are a little more pronounced in this lighting. His cheekbones seem a bit sharper under his skin. He rinses out his mouth and keeps looking at the person in front of him until footsteps outside in the hallway snap him back to the present.

He makes Kuroo’s bed and walks out in the borrowed pajamas. The shirt fits fine, but the pants hit higher than he’d like, exposing a dorky amount of ankle. 

“Good morning, Tsukki.” Kuroo greets him from a spot on the floor. He looks up only briefly from the focus of his attention - a block of wood and several tools laid out beside him. 

“Good morning.” Kei mirrors back, his sleepy mind watching Kuroo’s hands as they handle his carving tools. 

“There’s lukewarm coffee in the french press and some leftovers from a shitty breakfast I made. It’s not much, but enjoy. You can heat up whatever you want in the microwave.” His tone is casual and he keeps working, but Kei feels him watching him walk out of the living room. 

Kei finds a mug set out for him and settles on Kuroo’s couch with a reheated cup of black coffee in hand. Across the room, Kuroo works steadily as he chatters on about very little. Kei listens to the cadence of his voice, somehow different than usual, calmer, more even-toned. 

“I didn’t take you for someone who slept in.” Kuroo glances up from his spot on the floor without lifting his head, peering through his eyelashes. He smiles. 

“I don’t usually.” Kei halfway lies. “I didn’t used to, but lately-” He trails off. “Plus it was so late when I finally fell asleep. What time did you get up?”

Kuroo shrugs. “Around eight or so. I can nap later. It’s habit.” He continues working and Kei watches his hands carefully dig into the wood, shavings coming off in clean curls that Kuroo lets fall to the floor or in his lap. “I’m usually too tired when I get home from work to get creative, so I started getting up earlier to do this.”

“What are you working on?” He leans forward on the couch, his two hands wrapped around the warm mug. 

Kei’s glad Kuroo’s occupied and not just sitting in the room, expecting real conversation. It doesn’t feel much more different than any other morning at a friend’s house, except, of course, he’s drinking from Kuroo’s mug, wearing Kuroo’s clothes, and he definitely doesn’t do activities like those from the previous night with his other friends. 

“These are kind of like the ones from earlier, only I’m trying to take a different take on nostalgia. Like,” Kuroo pauses, putting down the woodblock and gesturing with his carving tool at Kei on the couch above him. “I kind of got stuck in high school memories with my old stuff.” He laughs. “It’s super lame.”

Kei grins. “Well, you are kind of lame.” He snaps back quickly. “I didn’t think those prints I saw before were too _high school_ , whatever that means.” 

Kuroo sets the tool down and rubs the back of his head and settles his hand on his neck. “Yea, but I know where the inspiration comes from, and it’s all high school. I’m one of _those guys_ \- a sad, aging twenty-something who fixates on high school.” 

“You don’t go creep around Nekoma’s campus, right?”

“Well no, but I hang out with Kenma-”

“-who you’ve known since you were little.”

“And Lev and Yaku and other guys from the team.”

“So do I sometimes.” Kei waves a hand. “Normal.”

“And Bokuto and Akaashi.”

Kei bristles a little, but continues. “They went to Fukurodani. Different school. Next argument.”

Kuroo laughs. “Yea, but they’re _high school_ friends. And then there’s the fact that I’m currently sticking it to my high school crush.”

Caught off-guard, Kei scrunches up his face, stifling a surprised laugh. “Gross.”

“To which part?”

“All of it.”

Kuroo chuckles softly and falls quiet. Kei chews on his bottom lip in the silence. Kuroo starts carving again, this time with a smaller, more delicate carving chisel. 

“You don’t want to be back in high school, right?” Kei asks, resting his forearms on his thighs as he leans forward. 

“Not even kind of!” Kuroo spits out a laugh. “But it’s weird. I grew up in Tokyo, right, so I don’t feel this urge to go move somewhere else, but it means I can run into my past literally everywhere.” He shrugs. “Too much thinking lately. I hate it.” He cracks a grin, setting down his work and sweeping the shavings into his hand. “You can’t have coffee on an empty stomach. What do you want?”

Kei’s shoulders tense. “This is fine, really. I can eat at home.”

Kuroo stands up and wipes his hands over a trash can, picking off little remains of wood. “I made eggs this morning, but I guess microwaved eggs are pretty nasty.” He keeps rambling off options as he makes the very short trek to his kitchen. 

Kei sets the mug down on a side table and pinches at the skin on his hand, foot gently tapping on the floor. He continues to protest but it falls on deaf ears and in a few minutes he’s at Kuroo’s joke of a kitchen table, pressed up against a wall across from the stubborn chef. 

In front of him is half a slice of toast, some eggs, and a fresh cup of coffee. He balls up his hands in his lap and stares into his coffee cup. Kuroo’s talking, but he’s not listening, and he definitely can’t look him in the eye any longer. 

This crosses a line. 

When Kei gathers the nerve to loosen his hands and try to use them like a normal human person, he looks up long enough for his dumb brain to run into some imaginary future where Kuroo always cooks breakfast on the weekends, where it’s normal for him to borrow pants that are just a little too short, or watch him work in the mornings. 

He swallows a bite of food and he can feel it all the way down. He searches for anything to say, to add something. “I can’t remember the last time I actually ate a real breakfast.”

“Really? I do this most mornings. I have a special egg pan and everything! And this little ring so, like, if I’m frying more than one they won’t touch each other.”

Kei notices that Kuroo is also picking at his food. Kuroo talks, he grins, he laughs, but his arms are folded tight beside him. 

“--And I hate to kick you out soon, but I have volleyball with my weird accountant team today, says the ‘reliving his high school glory days’ guy.”

Kei lets go of a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. He takes another bite. “That’s fine, I--”

“You could come.”

He nearly chokes. 

“They’d like another National-level player to practice with, I’m sure. And you’ve got such a friendly playing style, I’m sure they’d love you.”

Kei’s mind flashes to the first few times they hung out again and how many times Kuroo said the word ‘friend.’ He runs that past all the things Kuroo says to him when they have sex. They don’t match. He stumbles through his mind trying to pick his words carefully, but he knows it’s going to be blunt, regardless. “What is this to you?” 

On the other side of the table, Kuroo tilts his head, his face unreadable. 

He clarifies, knowing what other people tell him about how he comes across. “I like things the way they are now.” He’s gesturing with his hands without meaning to. “This is fine. Good. Just,” he looks at a spot on the wall just beyond Kuroo’s face, “this is all I can do.”

Kei doesn’t know what to expect, but he isn’t ready for the quick, nonchalant reply. “Yea, that’s fine.” His eyes dart back to Kuroo who’s sipping coffee. “I like things they way they are, too.”

Kuroo stretches wide and his arms come back down as he lets out a loud exhale. “Just don’t overthink it, alright? We can be friends. Put the buddy in fuck buddy. Unless that’s off the table for you.” There’s no animosity in his tone, but Kei still feels scrutinized, and Kuroo’s definitely avoiding looking at him, too. 

“Being friends is fine.”

“Well good. So, will you, Tsukishima Kei, at some point in the future come play volleyball with me and my weird, old accountant friends in an unromantic, well-lit, albeit rundown, neighborhood gym?”

Kei rolls his eyes, trying to shift back to comfortable territory. “I’m no good anymore. It’s been too long.”

“I doubt that.” 

“Fine. At an undetermined time and date in the future I will maybe consider going.”

Kuroo smirks.

Kei sits back in his chair, tilting his empty mug. He runs scenarios of his options. He could go home now, change his clothes sooner, maybe go back to bed. They could keep sitting here, finding things to talk about as the coffee slowly runs out. Or he could guide them back to the only activity where they really fit together. “So how long until you have to leave?”

He looks at his phone. “Little less than an hour.”

Kei raises an eyebrow. “Well, _buddy_ , I can think of a few things we could accomplish during that time.”

Kuroo laughs out loud and knocks his chair over when he gets up to dash to his room. 

When they part later that morning, Kei ends up having to wear a borrowed hoodie over his ‘going out’ clothes from the night before to cover up a fresh bite mark.The weather is just a touch too warm for it but he pulls it close to him. Kuroo ends up leaving way too late and sprinting towards the gym. 

Kei walks to the train station a little more slowly than normal, enjoying the music in his headphones. 

 

***

 

When Kei gets back to his apartment building, the older woman who amicably snoops through everyone’s business is sitting outside her front door, waiting for people to talk to. 

“Recycling day was yesterday.”

Kei nods, counting the seconds until it’s polite enough to walk away. 

“Did you sort everything correctly?”

“Yes, Ueno-san. Thank you for checking.”

“There’s a package on your doorstep.” She looks up expectantly. “A big one.”

Kei shoots a sideways smile, ready to get back to his own place. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to open it.”

“It’s from abroad. Is it from your friend who used to come all the time?”

“Maybe, hard to know without seeing it first, Ueno-san, but probably. Thank you.” He bows a little and scoots past her, his back rubbing against the railing. 

She smiles at him the whole time until he breaks eye contact and turns around. He knows she’ll ask about it later. 

When he reaches his door, there is, in fact, a large box with Tadashi’s return address written in huge letters in the corner. Kei smiles and fumbles with his keys, the box awkwardly hoisted under one arm. 

Kei calculates the time in London, but he already knows he’ll have to wait. He sets down the box on his couch and texts his engineering friends that he’ll be a little late today before sending a message to Tadashi. 

Kei>> Text me when you’re up.

One lunch, some chores, and a long nap later, Kei gets a reply.

Tadashi>> I’m up! 

Kei presses the call button without responding. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

“I did, I did. Good evening, sunsh -- well I was about to call you sunshine but that doesn’t fit because it’s a little after five for you, isn’t it?”

They laugh and small talk about their work weeks. Kei’s able to close his eyes and picture his friend there with him for little moments at a time.

“It’s actually been a while since we’ve gotten another bid. It’s like we hit it big right off the bat and now my team’s struggling to get something else.”

“That sucks. It only takes one, though, you know? Never know what next week will bring. Or it’ll keep sucking and we’ll just go live in the the woods like we used to pretend to do when we were little.”

Kei laughs, remembering. “I haven’t thought about that in so long. We had a whole town ready to go.”

Tadashi lowers his voice like movie trailer. “Deep in the neighborhood woods, two boys built a town out of scraps of recycling and building materials.” He snorts. “Want a house that’s just a ripped tarp tied between two trees? Got it covered!”

“Want a store that’s just a cardboard outline that we have to replace when it rains?”

They keep talking and laughing, recalling their adventures and how both of them thought that maybe, just maybe, they were starting to get too old at the time, but keeping it a secret and deciding they didn’t need others to know anyway. They made it for themselves and if they needed to keep playing pretend when some of their peers started to move on, than that was fine by them. Kei could stare down anyone who wanted to make fun of them anyway. 

“I still might want to move back to our recycling town.”

“Speaking of which, any word on the new apartment hunt?”

Kei sighs. “Not really. I’ll have to pay to get out of this lease early, then there’s the key money for a new place, and it’s freaking Tokyo, so, you know--”

Tadashi makes an understanding hum on the other end.

“Sometimes I figure it’d be worth it, though.”

“How long would you have to wait for your lease to be up? I know you moved there when we were seniors, like fall-ish?”

“Yea, November of our last year. Then assface moved in here in April.”

“Good name. I like that we can call him things now and not just ignore that Sir Fuckery ever existed in conversations. Progress! Ugh, that assface. Now I can verbally murder him.”

They both laugh too hard for the simplicity of the joke. “So there was a surprise on my doorstep today.”

Kei hears Tadashi clap on the other end. “Yes! Did you open it?”

“Of course not. Not yet.”

“Ooh, switch to video, please?”

Without a remark, Kei complies and rests his phone against some books on his coffee table. He’s so focused on the box and hearing Tadashi talk so vaguely about the things he picked out to send that he’s a little taken aback when he looks up and sees his friend’s face on the screen. 

Behind him he can see that Tadashi has more decorations up than they last time they video chatted. His hair is still a rat’s nest from sleep. Aside from the background of his London flat and the occasional choppiness of the connection, Tadashi is right here with him in his living room, like he should be. Kei’s heart is warm and a little heavy as he carefully tears the tape off the top of the box.

Tadashi walks him through the contents as Kei holds them up (“Higher! I can’t see what it is!”). There’s a few boxes of tea (“Not as great as what you sent me, but it’s growing on me.”), an embarrassingly touristy t-shirt (“You can wear it anywhere, Tsukki, that’s where.”), a few postcards, a mug, and a bear dressed like royalty (“You have to tell me what name you give him.”) He pauses when he gets to the bottom.

“What are these?”

Tadashi chokes out a laugh. “Hold them up!”

Kei lifts a pair of Union Jack boxer shorts. “These are --”

“Amazing. Yes, I know.” Tadashi’s face is so close to the phone that Kei can hear when he inhales to keep laughing. “They’re so good. You’re welcome.”

“I’m going to put them on the bear.”

“No!” Tadashi yells. “You have to wear them.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Next time someone can see them.”

“I know who you mean.” Kei shoots him a look. 

“Nope. I’m innocent!” Tadashi shoots back playfully. “Last time I checked in, you two weren’t really talking.” He says the rest quietly. 

Kei makes a puzzled face. He’s right. Yesterday morning when he woke up it had been a couple of weeks since he had talked to Kuroo. Too much happened in a day. He must look like he has mental whiplash because Tadashi asks, “Everything okay?”

“Yea, no, fine.”

“You sure?”

“Back to normal.” Whatever that is. 

“Happy to hear it.” He pauses. “As long as you’re happy.”

Kei pauses, then shrugs, looking down at his rug. “I’m not unhappy, so--” Two days in a row, someone asked him about his happiness. 

“We’ll work on your negative phrasing, but I’m glad. Now go make a cup of tea. We have so much more catching up to do.”

 

***

 

Kei wakes up the next morning with the royal bear (now named Archibald) on the bed beside him. He checks his phone to see the time and sees that here’s several messages from an unknown number. He squints, reading the digits without his glasses until he realizes he knows that stupid number. His eyes open wide and his body tenses.

Unknown>> Tsukishima-san, it’s Akaashi. I’ve wanted to send this message for a while now. I know I don’t really have to right to talk to you, but I feel like I should anyway.

Unknown>> I feel that it would be best if things are going to progress with you and Kuroo that we talk. He and I are close but I’ve never talked to him about what happened that year Bokuto and I were apart. I don’t want something that happened between us to ruin anything else. 

Unknown>> Again, I know I don’t have the right to ask anything of you, not after how I ended things, but I want what’s best for Kuroo. And you, believe it or not. 

Unknown>> You can forget about this if I’m way off. I don’t know. 

Unknown>> I’m sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCHOOOOOOOOOOOL'S  
> OUT  
> FOR  
> SUMMER! 
> 
> You can now expect updates on random days whenever I feel like it. I mean, I sat down yesterday and wrote 2k words of this to finish it up, so yeaaaaa! I have lots of free time and a new chromebook so I can go and type whereeeeveeeerrr I want tooooooo. 
> 
> Oh heavens, this note is obnoxious. I am just so glad it's summer. Cheers to the other teachers and students out there, too! 
> 
> Readers, you are all fantastic little rays of sunshine. ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡ I hope you enjoyed Ch 9!


	10. There are rules and routines.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei has lunch with Yachi, settles into new patterns, agrees to invitations (of two very different varieties *ahem*) from Kuroo, and has A Moment.
> 
> (If a sexually versatile couple bothers you, now might be your time to exit. Or you can easily just skip sections 2 and 3 and be a happy camper from there.)

Kei spends the next week convincing himself that not replying to Akaashi’s message is the correct choice. He was out enjoying life again, doing what he wanted. Akaashi doesn’t get to take any of that away. How dare he think he could just share his opinion out of the blue.

He wants what’s best for Kuroo? Sure. Kei can believe that. They’ve been friends for so long now. But there’s no way Akaashi wants what’s best for him. 

And things aren’t progressing. He and Kuroo aren’t dancing around one another waiting for feelings to come out into the open. They talked. Kei said what he needed to say. Kuroo agreed. It’s fun. It’s comfortable. It’s settled. 

“Hello? Tsukishima?” Across from the table, Yachi waves a hand at him.

Kei clears his throat on reflex. “Sorry, spaced.”

‘You all good?” Yachi sets down her chopsticks next to her bowl of pho. This is the second time this month they’ve met for lunch. Their schedules don’t align every week, but Kei appreciates the mid-day break when they can do it. 

Kei nods and sits up straighter, correcting the slump he’d unknowingly fallen into. “Just stressed.”

“Work?”

“Yea.” Lies of partial omission don’t really count. “Everyone at the office is sort of tense right now. I think the president tried to do too much too quickly and we’re spread a little thin without winning a lot of big contracts to help pay for everything.”

Yachi sucks air between her teeth. “Yikes, sorry to hear that.”

Kei shrugs. “It is what it is. Still having a job is good, right?”

She laughs. “Exactly. At least you’re busy? I think my job forgets I’m there half the time. I’ll speak up in a meeting and people jump like a ghost just appeared in the room.” She rolls her eyes and blows a strand of hair off of her face. “I’m smart and capable. Give me things to do!”

“At least we’re not Hinata.”

Yachi makes a questioning sound.

“Did you read the text this morning about what happened in his class? I don’t envy that.” He snickers.

“Oh yea! God, middle school boys are disgusting.”

Throughout lunch, Yachi shows off pictures of her cat, Kei fills Yachi in on Tadashi updates, they continue to commiserate about their work lives, but still agree that, yes, whatever happens it’s still better than teaching middle schoolers gym. 

“I don’t know, though, everything else seems pretty great for Hinata.” Yachi slouches onto her open palm, resting her elbow on the table in front of the huge bowl she’s given up on finishing. 

Kei thinks back to the last time Hinata and Kageyama visited, including Kageyama’s unnervingly content smile. There have also been an alarming number of puppy photos in the group chat lately. 

“I want that.” Yachi sighs. “Not even embarrassed to say that out loud anymore. So frustrating.” 

Kei weighs his options. His knee jerk reaction is to remind Yachi that his three year relationship exploded and that it’s all a waste of time, but even in his mind he doesn’t like how that sounds. He could lie and say that he agrees, but he truly does not want that now. He goes with the shortest reply, “Yea.”

Yachi surprises him with a laugh. “Tell me what you really think!”

Kei rolls the chopstick wrapping between his fingers under the table. “Relationships aren’t worth it.”

Her head stays perched lazily on top of her palm, but her gaze softens. “Some are.”

Kei concedes with a shrug and slumps back against the booth. 

“Hinata’s right, you know.”

“About what?”

“That I should have more confidence because I’m awesome and that you’re really sweet and smooshy. Someone will appreciate us.”

Kei opens his mouth to object, but he’s cut off. 

“Eventually. When you want it.” She raises an eyebrow, daring him to snipe back. 

A smile cracks at the corner of his mouth. “Eventually for me - maybe. But not for you. You’re ready.”

Yachi sits up straight and opens her eyes wide. “I’ve been ready! I want a partner, like a real one. Plus, my cat needs a two parent home. She’s being raised by a crazy person. She needs someone to really guide her through life.”

Kei huffs out a laugh. “I’m sure she doesn’t notice.”

“No way, sometimes she looks at me and I just know she’s thinking about how we both need an actual adult in the house.”

 

***

 

Kei notices the always-present pain in his neck has lessened sometime in the past few weeks. His current routine has far too many people in it, but he can’t say he hates it.

At least one or two nights a week he goes out with coworkers to de-stress together over a quick beer before they all head home. 

As Tadashi becomes more comfortable in his new job and his new city, he’s free to talk more often. 

He meets Yachi for lunch or coffee when they can. 

Every Friday (and some Thursdays - a Wednesday that one time), after a week of dumb texts, he meets up with Kuroo. Sometimes it’s earlier because Kuroo has plans later. Other times they text each other so late, missing the last train is inevitable. Sometimes he stays over by choice. He likes his options. 

Some nights they share a drink or two and don’t make it to Kuroo’s bedroom before clothes are gone and Kuroo’s whispering filthy encouragements in his ear. 

Some nights he stays after they’re done and they eat convenience store snacks in Kuroo’s living room while they talk about nothing over a dumb movie on Netflix. 

Some nights, after one or both of them has had a rough week, they ignore everything else outside the walls of his apartment and it’s intense, hungry, and as soon as they’ve fallen apart, they’re working each other back up to go again. 

There are clear, defined rules. They talked. Kei shared what he needed to. Kuroo agreed. It’s fun. It’s comfortable. It’s settled. And once Kei knows the rules, it makes it easier to play the game. 

Kuroo>> so you remember, like, weeks ago I said something

Kei>> I am going to need more information than that. You speak an incredible number of words.

Kuroo>> you replied too quickly! I wasn’t finished yet  
Kuroo>> heh, wasn’t finished yet  
Kuroo>> anyway, let me finish first!  
Kuroo>> youusuallyfinishfirst

Kei>> oh my god, you’re just interrupting yourself 

Kuroo>> what if  
Kuroo>> when I see you  
Kuroo>> this evening 

Kei hates when Kuroo types his sentences a few words at a time. He silences his notifications so his phone doesn’t draw as much attention from the cubicles around him. 

Kuroo>> we, you know  
Kuroo>> switch things up?

Kei looks down from an email he was in the middle of replying to and his breath hitches for a moment. He closes his eyes before snapping them back open. His imagination worked far too quickly for his own good. 

Kuroo>> sometimes I don’t think about it  
Kuroo>> and then I do, and I like, really really  
Kuroo>> REALLY  
Kuroo>> THINK ABOUT IT

He looks over his shoulder to see if anyone’s walking past. He exhales in a quick burst of air and types his purposefully short reply. 

Kei>> fine with me

He drums his fingers on the desk.

Kei>> how can you type this stuff so early in the morning? 

Kuroo>> you don’t just wake up like this?

Kei>> NO

Kuroo>> good thing you have me, then. See you tonight.

He then proceeds to send a string of emoji so long that Kei gives up on trying to determine their meaning. He gets the gist after an eggplant, a thumbs up, and a red 100. 

Focusing on work is difficult.

 

***

 

Kei’s grouchy on the short ride over to Kuroo’s. The weather’s growing warmer and Tokyo public transit is getting more uncomfortably sticky everyday. He’s thankful for the extra shirt he shoved into his bag. He’ll borrow pants again if he needs them. 

When Kuroo opens his door, he’s already stipped down to his underwear, just clothed enough to greet him without showing the entire neighborhood what he’s got. 

His whole mood shifts. Kei throws everything he’s carrying to the ground and slams the door shut behind him with his foot so their lips can crash together. Kuroo lips taste a little like whiskey, and Kei lets the warm sting invite him in further.

“Don’t you have any shame?” Kei breathes against him when they break apart. 

Kuroo’s laugh comes from deep in his chest. “None. Especially not when I’ve been thinking about you all day. Work was hard to get through. Really hard.”

Kei wants to roll his eyes at the pun but he just can’t care. Kuroo’s unbuttoning his shirt as Kei backs him against the wall. He presses their foreheads together as Kuroo slowly undoes the last button. “You sure about this?” Kei asks.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Oh, I know what I’m doing.” Kei replies confidently. He has his preferences, but he also has his experiences. And he’s curious. 

When they’re together, Kei makes his demands and Kuroo meets them. Kei thinks about how Kuroo will look when he asks for what he needs. 

Kuroo looks like he’s about to say something but he stop, licks his bottom lip, and just says, “I’m sure.”

By the time they make it to the bed, Kei’s caught up to Kuroo’s level of undress and they’re both shedding their final layers. Kuroo sits at the edge of his bed and looks up. Kei’s whole body feels lit up with tiny points of light. He’s seen him like this so many times, but this is different. The want inside of him takes on a new shape. 

Kei pushes gently on his shoulder and Kuroo lies back, arms folded back behind his head. For a second, Kei was unsure if he’d be able to take it slow, pay Kuroo back for times he’d teased, but that smug look on his face makes Kei want to take him apart piece by piece. 

Kuroo reaches up to pull at his shoulders, urging him to follow him down, but Kei shakes him off. He glides into position above him and slides down his torso with his mouth, licking hot stripes past the inked patterns on his skin. Kuroo’s hips buck reflexively when Kei dips past his hips, but Kei grabs onto his thighs. His fingernails leave light marks as he does nothing but breathe over Kuroo’s cock before following the new scratch marks with his mouth. 

Kei remembers the remnants of bruises on his own legs, how much he likes knowing they’re there when he’s at work. Kuroo will have something to remember him by. As he kisses and bites, he lets his other hand roam close to where Kuroo is longing to be touched, even tracing gentle lines up and down a few times, but he does nothing that will make him feel better.

The problem is, Kei’s having his own problems waiting. Kuroo’s whispered whines aren’t helping. 

When he looks up, Kuroo’s eyes are shut and his chest is rising and falling quickly. He shifts so his mouth is hovering right above his shaft and he just licks at his head quickly before he stops again.

Another whine, louder this time.

The second time he stays down just long enough to lap at the precome beading at the tip. 

There’s no sound, but Kei checks and sees Kuroo biting his lip, his eyes screwed shut.

Kei places a fingertip just outside Kuroo’s hole and carefully licks from the base of his shaft up to the head, whisper light the whole way. 

Above him Kei hears a choked laugh. “Oh god, this sucks. I’m ready. I’ve been ready. What do you think I was doing before you got here?”

Kei presses into him a little more and realizes he’s still wet with lube. Kei shuts his eyes for a moment and finds his voice. “I’ll still need more.”

“You know where everything is,” Kuroo pleads, “just go. Fuck, just go.”

Kei does as he’s told and he slips in one lubed finger enough to feel Kuroo’s handiwork. “What did you do while you waited for me?” He asks, wanting to hear the answer. Kei’s voice is thick, deeper than he’s used to hearing from himself. 

“I thought about what you look like when I’m” Kei slips in another finger and Kuroo moans “--in you, the face you make while I fill you up and I touched myself, drove in as deep as I could thinking about what you’d feel like in me.” 

Kei hums along as he speaks, swallowing hard as he listens. “Did you come? While you thought about me?”

Kuroo nods, opening his eyes.

“Well then I need to catch up.” Kei hooks his two fingers and Kuroo squirms beneath him. It’s been a while since he’s been in this position, even longer since he’s done this with someone who does more than lie like a dead fish, and the rush is empowering. He loves asking for what he wants and Kuroo granting his wishes, but watching Kuroo’s body move as he stretches him, his muscles jerking when he finds a good spot or slips in another finger, brings a different kind of rush. 

Right before he pulls out, he slides his mouth down and takes in as much of Kuroo as he can, eliciting a groan that Kei swears will pierce the thin apartment walls. 

Kei aligns himself and Kuroo hooks his legs behind him, ankles crossed behind Kei’s back, urging him in faster, faster. Kei finally gives in. He pushes in and gasps, dropping his head down towards his chest. He’d forgotten what this felt like, tight heat pulling him in deeper. He straightens his back again and grabs hold of Kuroo’s hips. He digs his fingers in and goes lower under he’s snuck between his ass and the sheets. He lifts and Kuroo moves with him, his locked legs pushing him in farther. 

For a moment, Kei’s still and enjoying the feeling of Kuroo around him with his eyes closed, but when he opens them again he starts to move. He moves slowly, waiting to see if Kuroo needs more time, but enjoying feeling the drag of his cock inside of him. He’s unable to stifle a groan as he glides almost all the way out before driving back in. He pushes himself as deep as he can go and shuts his eyes. Watching Kuroo writhe beneath him is too much right now.

He savors the sensation as much as he can before he quickens the pace to chase what he needs. He puts a hand behind his back and unwinds Kuroo’s legs. He runs his warm hands from Kuroo’s thighs up to his calves and positions his legs on his shoulders. 

In this new position, he’s free to move as he likes and the pace quickens. He’s done going slowly and he wants to hear what he can make Kuroo do. He pushes in hard, just as deep as he was before, but faster each time. Kuroo’s moans grow louder and he pulls at the sheets beside him, gripping them in tight fists. 

Kei leans forward and brackets his hands on either side, folding Kuroo in on himself, getting close enough to hear more of his wrecked breathing. His own groans mingle with his and Kei hears how his pitch changes every time he slams in harder. Kuroo’s mouth moves, but only choked sounds come out before he manages to whisper. “Close, Kei, I’m so close. Touch -”

Kei doesn’t need anymore words. He slips a hand between them and roughly pumps him a few times before Kuroo throws his head back and comes yelling at the ceiling. Kei tries to hold on, make this last, but watching Kuroo lose control takes its toll and he comes hard, seeing stars as he shuts his eyes. 

He pulls out and collapses on the bed beside Kuroo, gasping for breath. Neither of them move for a while. When Kei sits up, he looks over to see Kuroo with one arm draped over his eyes, still breathing quickly. He gets up to throw away the condom and thinks about what Kuroo does for him every time. 

Gathering strength, he drags his feet to the bathroom and finds a washcloth like the ones Kuroo always uses and runs it under the faucet until the water’s warm. As he wipes away what’s left from both of them, Kuroo’s arm drops to the bed. The other arm grabs Kei by the shoulder and pulls him in. Kei freezes, afraid to lose his balance. Kuroo kisses his forehead and lets go, turning his head so he settles deeper into his pillow. Kei watches his eyes close softly, too frozen to move, but eventually he takes a step back to finish cleaning up. 

When Kei returns from the bathroom, Kuroo’s sitting up. “You hungry?”

Kei blinks. “Not particularly.”

“Well, I am and I can’t move right now, so--”

Kei’s eyes open wider. He thinks back. “Did I? Sorry if I--”

He cuts him off. “Nope, just been a while. I promise, all good.” He exhales. “Really good.”

“You want me to--?” Stark naked and surprised, Kei’s not sure what to do.

“Chips in the pantry, like a billion kinds.”

“Bring them here?”

“Yes.”

“In your bed?”

“Yes. Chips in bed.”

That night, Kei stays. By the time they’re falling asleep with a movie still playing on Kuroo’s tablet, he doesn’t even care that little bits of chips will embed themselves in his body during the night or that the sheets are still messed up or that he just ate a ton of salty food right before bed.

For the first time in a long time, Kei decidedly does not worry about stupid things like that. 

 

***

 

Kei braces himself for some awkward conversation or some need for a shift in their arrangement in the days that follow, but it doesn’t come. The comfort and ease of their boundaries confirmed, Kei says the words he knows Kuroo had long been waiting to hear.

“Fine. I’ll come play volleyball.”

Which is how he finds himself in the aforementioned unromantic, well-lit, slightly rundown municipal gym in Kuroo’s neighborhood early on a Tuesday evening. 

The friends Kuroo plays with are all from an accounting firm who started a team in an amateur neighborhood league as a bonding experience. They roped in Kuroo as part of it by exploiting a loophole. Technically, he had acquired a contract with them to acquire art a year and a half ago, and he was never really fired (can’t when the job just ended), so they could let him play.

That was good. Because they were terrible. 

“Why are you holding your hands like that? The ball’s just going to go straight up in the air. You’re not aiming at all.” Kei’s brows are furrowed tightly as he delivers his criticism as even-toned as he can by removing himself from the situation. This isn’t his team. It doesn’t matter. But they do need to do better.

A couple of the other players laugh, including a group of women who, judging by their earlier comments, did not like this man very much. Kei tries to let it go. “Just, if you want a chance to score, move your hands like this.” He demonstrates. “If you want to pass it to your team to give them a chance at a cleaner receive, try this.” The man nods sheepishly and Kei starts to walk away. 

He catches Kuroo staring at him, his smug grin visible from a distance. 

Kei gets his revenge when he scrutinizes Kuroo teaching some players that had just joined a few weeks ago the basic ways to receive a ball from the other team. He darts around from person to person, fixing their form, giving advice, demonstrating again and again. Even when a practice match gets going, Kuroo doesn’t really play. He steps in to teach then backs out. 

“How is this fun for you?” Kei asks as Kuroo’s eyes track the ball back and forth from his seat beside him on a bench. 

He shrugs but doesn’t look his way. “Teaching is fun, too. I’m not as good as I used to be either, but it’s good to just come out and try. You get it. You were doing a great job out there.”

Kei snorts. “Yea, okay. Think a few of your ‘students’ would disagree.”

“They could stand to hear it.” He replies nonchalantly. “You know, we could get one of the better setters to work with us and see how we still match up with our spikes and blocks.”

Kuroo’s shoulder nudges his and Kei pushes back. “You’re way too old now. I’d break you.”

“You don’t even play anymore.”

“That’s how old and fragile you are. I’d still be better.”

Kuroo chuckles. “It’s too bad Bo and Akaashi aren’t here, then we’d be all back together.” He sighs. Kuroo keeps talking about how Akaashi usually can’t make it on weekdays, how Bokuto comes when he can but the train ride from their apartment is a bit too long, but Kei’s not listening. 

How stupid could he be? Of course his friends would come here sometimes, too. Kei knows Kuroo has no idea what happened, but obviously Akaashi would present a problem and he has no idea what Bokuto knows or how he’d react. Kuroo must talk about him around them. Why else would Akaashi text him out of the blue? 

Kei’s comfortable, but that’s because there are rules and routines. He’ll enjoy playing today, then let this part go. He won’t be missing much. 

He massages his thumbs into the palms of his hands, pressing in hard. He lets out the breath he was holding. “I wouldn’t mind a little competition, if you’re still game.” Kei goads, but stares ahead at the rest of the team. 

Kuroo claps a hand to his shoulder from beside him and squeezes. “You’re on.” He whispers in his ear before jumping off the bench to grab someone to set for them. 

 

***

 

That night when he gets home, Kei drafts several versions of a reply to send Akaashi in the shower. When he finally sits down to type it, his hands feel tense. He shakes them out, types, and clicks send.

Kei>> You don’t have anything to worry about. It won’t come up. This isn’t going anywhere. We’re just hanging out. 

He silences his notifications and sets the phone screen-side down beside him on the couch. He stands up, walks briskly to the kitchen, and gets a glass of water. He walks back to his living room, realizes he’s holding an empty glass, goes back, sets it down, walks back to his couch. Kei doesn’t sit. He drums his fingers on his thighs, runs one hand through his wet hair. His limbs feel heavy, his head feels light, but he has to move to settle the growing knot in his stomach.

He paces behind his couch, but the nerves have already built. He resigns himself. Kei drops himself into the corner of his couch, arms folded around his knees, head down. 

_We’re just hanging out._

The moment he hit send, he knew it wasn’t true anymore.

“Well, shit.” He says to an empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when I'm excited, I make this weird little "crab claw-hand" gesture. I don't know when it started, I just do it.
> 
> Typing the end of this chapter and outlining the next few made me make some serious "crab claw-hands."
> 
> Thank you all so very much for being a part of this. Very little writing would occur (if ever) if I didn't know someone was out there enjoying it. You're all so very excellent. I'll say it every chapter, shout it from the rooftops, because it's true!


	11. You could have stayed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei talks/whines about (capital F) Feelings with Tadashi and spends a normal(ish) Friday with Kuroo before work throws a potential wrench in his plans and Kei is left scrambling for comfort.

Kei wakes up to his alarm blaring an hour before he normally wakes up for work. It’s getting late for Tadashi, but he knows his best friend. He’ll still be awake. 

He doesn’t even get out of bed. Rolling over just enough to shut off his alarm and grab his phone, he flops back onto his back and presses the call button, resting the phone beside him on the pillow after pressing speakerphone. 

Tadashi sounds more than a little surprised when he picks up. “Good morning, Tsukki. It’s so, so early for you! What are you doing up?”

Kei answers with a long, low whine.

Tadashi laughs. “Work?”

“No.”

His tone changes. “An emergency? Did something happen?”

“No.”

Kei hears a sigh of relief. “Life in general, but not an emergency?”

“Yea.”

“So what’s up?”

“You first.” Kei says groggily. “How was your day?”

“Pretty great, actually. We got another new person in the office so I’m officially not the newest person in there anymore. I got to teach someone else how to do something! And then we went out for dinner and someone thought I’d been living in the UK for years because my English pronunciation is so good. I mean, it helps that I don’t talk much, but when I do it sounds good, so that’s something? And I really could keep talking, but the back of my brain is just going ‘shut up so Kei can say his thing!’ So, yea, you should talk now. Why’d you wake up so early to call me?”

“I -- I don’t even know where to start.” And that’s true. Kei spent most of the previous night staring holes into his ceiling. How was he supposed to know if these things, these feelings, that showed up out of nowhere were actually something or just a passing reaction to circumstances? 

He’d analyzed it from every angle and every single time he’d decided that these unwelcome sentiments were fleeting, that they were just a side-effect of the upturn in his life recently and things would settle down and they would fade away on their own in time. 

And every time he reached that conclusion his gut told him otherwise and he’d repeat the cycle once again. 

“Well, first, what’s it about?”

Kei answers with a grumble. 

“You have to give me something here. I’m making assumptions and I’m getting all worked up and a little excited over what could be very wrong.”

“There are feelings.” He says the last word with a quiet sneer, the whole phrase an exercise in detaching himself from the situation, like he was telling Tadashi about something gross he found on the floor.

“About?”

Another grumble. Kei waits before replying into his pillow. “You know who.”

There’s a knowing hum on the other end and then a patient silence. Tadashi is going to wait. 

Kei groans. He waits for the word vomit to come, for his best friend’s presence to do what it normally does - unlock whatever is behind bars in his brain. But the words don’t come. Kei just feels warm but embarrassed. “It’s just so stupid.”

Tadashi chuckles softly. “You’re allowed to be a human person, Kei.”

In reply, Kei just grumbles again. Tadashi eventually convinces him to get out of bed to make a cup of coffee for himself while Tadashi makes some calming herbal tea in his own apartment. His friend fills some of the quiet moments with chatter, but he leaves room for Kei to sit with his thoughts. 

Leaning against his kitchen counter, hands wrapped around a coffee cup, phone perched between his shoulder and his ear, Kei sighs out a question, “How do I know if this is anything?”

“I guess most of the time you don’t. You just take a chance and see?” 

“I’m not taking a chance on something if there’s no point to it.”

Tadashi hums, but doesn’t say anything back. 

“I just -- I don’t think there’s anything behind it. I’ve just been less of a miserable person lately and probably my brain is just incorrectly labeling what’s going on.”

“They’re called emotions.”

“Right, and they’re not to be trusted.” Kei tries to laugh. “It’s going to end up being nothing.”

Tadashi immediately replies. “Maybe, but, then again, what made you call me to talk about this so early in the morning?”

Kei sets his coffee down on the counter behind him and runs his hands over his face. He puts the phone back in his hand and swings his body up from the counter so he can pace and talk. “We might not be friends, but I stay at his place, we talk, we watch movies -” he groans “I had all these lines, hard lines I drew but he keeps getting me to move them.”

“But you don’t seem to mind it, right?”

“No. Not all the time. I don’t know. I don’t mind until I think about it.”

“So, do you have anything to lose by seeing where it might go?”

The question makes Kei stop short on the path he’s wearing down between his kitchen and his bathroom. They’re not really friends, so he wouldn’t lose a friendship. There’s always a fear of rejection with these sorts of things. If it went wrong, if he misread his own feelings, or Kuroo’s, then -- 

“I always screw up things like this and --”

“Tsukki, you don’t--”

“--And I couldn’t take being that lonely again.” Right now, he has texts from Kuroo throughout the day that make him laugh or roll his eyes at work. He sees Kuroo on Fridays and, usually, more often than that now. He likes watching him work on his art or watching bad movies in bed. Somewhere in his mind, he knows that their bodies work together in a way that Kei hadn’t felt with anyone else before. 

“So you’d miss him?”

Kei nods even though Tadashi can’t see it. 

Tadashi takes his silence as an answer. “That tells you something.”

“It’s such a mess, though. We’ve talked about boundaries, we agreed to them, and I truly don’t know,” he swallows hard “if he sees other people because we’re not dating and I -- plus he’s friends with Akaashi and I don’t know what to do with that-- a mess.”

“Yea, I’m not going to pretend it’s simple, but, if there’s a chance out there for you to be happy I’m always going to root for that. Always.”

They keep talking in circles until Kei has to go to work. He ends the call feeling heavy and anxious, but there’s a hint of something else he can’t name. 

 

***

 

On the train ride to Kuroo’s on Friday, Kei decides to run a test. He has a plan.

Kei decides to not do or say anything out of the ordinary, but in his head, he’ll act like they’re dating, or something.

If it fits, he’ll think about it more later.

If it doesn’t fit, he’ll let it go and continue to be content with what they have.

Kuroo won’t need to know any of it. 

Tadashi suggested that he actually talk to Kuroo, but even as he said it Kei could hear the resignation in his voice. They both know that Kei, given the opportunity, won’t talk about anything until he’s figured it out for himself first. 

The problem is, the second Kuroo opens his front door, Kei’s penchant for self-sabotage takes center stage. He’s fidgeting, sitting on the edge of Kuroo’s couch, unable to relax and frustrated with himself. His unease must be written all over his face because Kuroo takes a moment to stop explaining his new tattoo idea through a mouth full of take-out to ask if he’s alright. 

“Yea, no, just work.” It’s become such an easy excuse. There’s truth to it. Aside from some of his coworkers, it really has been awful lately. 

Kuroo waves a dismissive hand at him. “Leave that shit behind. It’s Friday.” He grins wide and picks up his plastic container from the floor to it over to the couch where he joins Kei with a heavy slump. “You’re here now.”

He sets down his food and leans into Kei like a damn kitten seeking warmth. Kei curses his traitorous thoughts as he tries to grasp for any ability to rationally analyze the situation like he planned. 

“God, you’re so tense. I can fix that.” Kuroo purrs in his ear and Kei has no idea how he can be so turned on by someone who so often smells like food, grins like he’s always the one in control, laughs so obnoxiously and - fuck it. Plans be damned. There’s one thing that always makes sense with Kuroo. 

Kei flips his body and straddles him on the couch, locking his fingers in his messy hair and kissing him until his brain is foggy with want. Kuroo’s hands run up and down his back and he responds to Kei grinding down with a buck of his hips. 

“Wait.” Kuroo pulls back, a short laugh escaping. “I just had a thought.”

Kei rolls his eyes. “So rare. You must have been shocked.”

Kuroo smirks. “Now we need a system to decide, you know -” he raises an eyebrow - “who gets to do what.” 

Kei shivers. He assumed they’d just go back to the way things were, but this is so much better.

Kuroo slips his hands down Kei’s back and dips under the waist of his jeans. “Yea, I thought we could play janken. Winner picks.”

Kei looks down at him, at how Kuroo looks so proud of himself, so playful yet serious. He’s talking about janken while his hands are grabbing Kei’s ass. Despite himself, Kei throws his head back and laughs. 

“Hey, I thought it was a good idea.” Kuroo defends, but he’s laughing, too. 

So they play janken. Kuroo throws rock. Kei chooses paper. 

“I win.” Kei announces.

Kuroo pulls him closer. “So what do you want?”

He looks down at him, Kuroo’s smile smug but soft, his eyes focused on nothing but Kei, and in this moment Kei wants everything. 

But for now -- “I want you to fuck me, make me scream.”

Kuroo’s eyes darken. “Easy.”

His confidence is obnoxious, but it isn’t misplaced. Kuroo’s warm tongue and rough hands work him open and take him apart. Kei pays him back in kind, honoring the pattern of give and take they’ve formed around one another. They take their time, testing the reactions they can get from the other until one of them reaches their breaking point first. 

It’s usually Kei. Tonight’s the same. He’s already come once and Kuroo’s lapping at his entrance as Kei’s moans are muffled by the sheets he’s collapsed into face-down, his forearms lying uselessly beside him and legs trembling as they hold up the rest of his weight. 

He moans louder, chasing the moment Kuroo loses control. “More - more - more.”

Kuroo sinks into him all at once and Kei yells, grips at the sheets for something to tether him to the present, so far is he gone into the world they create for themselves in this room. 

Kei feels Kuroo’s arms wrap around his middle and he lets himself be lifted until his back is against Kuroo’s sweaty torso, two arms holding him in place as Kuroo continues to needily drive into him. Kuroo’s lips meet his neck, his back. One hand slides down to stroke Kei’s cock and he starts to fall forward, his legs useless, but Kuroo holds him tight, driving deeper until they finally both collapse, exhausted and spent. 

Kuroo cleans them both like he always does before falling back on the bed. Kei takes his time reattaching himself to the real world with Kuroo breathing heavily beside him. Eventually, he remembers everything else that exists outside of this bedroom. 

Kei doesn’t plan on staying, but he wants to. 

“Where are you going?” Kuroo playfully tugs at his arm as Kei gets up. 

“Just have things to do at home.” He lies, his head still swimming. 

He wants to make fun of bad movies and see who wins the next round of top or bottom janken. 

For a moment, Kuroo’s smile falters. Kei catches it. “I kinda thought -- don’t work yourself too hard.” And just like that the smirk is painted back in place. 

“I won’t.” Kei grabs his clothes.

“Text me when you get home, alright?” Kuroo sits up. 

A tightness grabs hold of Kei’s chest and it renews his worry about how he’ll act when his overanalyzing brain comes back online. 

“I will.” Kei buttons his pants. 

“Sure there’s still a train?” Kuroo sits on the edge of his bed, wrapped in his sheets. 

“Yea, one left. It leaves in, like, fifteen minutes.”

“If you miss it, you know where I’ll be.” Fully dressed, Kei looks back at Kuroo. Under that winning grin, he looks tired. 

 

***

 

Kei starts his Monday by getting a seat on his morning commute. He texts Kuroo about his victory and gets a sleepy selfie in return. Then the rain clouds that threaten to pour down on his walk to his office mercifully wait until the moment he steps inside to let go. It’s a good start. Still, inside he feels like a coiled spring, unanswered questions boiling just under the surface.

So he’s already not feeling his best when the entire company is gathered in the lobby to be told that, due to the lack of contracts coming in, there will unfortunately be some layoffs by the end of the week. 

The human resources team talks about severance packages but it all sounds muffled. He’s not listening. Kei’s brain plays a high-pitched whine on repeat. What if he gets let go? He’ll probably be one of the first ones cut. Last in, first out. He’s managed to save a little, but his rent is high. He shouldn’t have taken this job. It was a risk to work at a new company like this. Why did he let himself get pulled into this? He should’ve kept his old job. Why does he keep making such colossal mistakes?

“Tsukishima-san?”

A voice snaps him out of his thoughts. At some point he must have sat back down at his desk. The woman next to him is leaning over the cubicle wall.

“Your phone.”

Kei takes a moment to understand what he’s saying before he hears the notification sounds coming from his pocket. “Thanks.” He mumbles. “Sorry. I’ll cut it off.”

Fumbling, he gets his phone and silences it, but watches the notification count go up one by one. He unlocks it. 

Kuroo>> Good morning!  
Kuroo>> It’s freakin’ Monday!  
Kuroo>> Good news - turns out I actually can invite someone to go to the art share this weekend  
Kuroo>> you know, the one I was making the new prints for?  
Kuroo>> I know you’re usually busy on Saturday, but  
Kuroo>> Can you come?

He turns his phone over on his desk and stares at his computer screen. He opens and closes different documents. He repeats the pattern of typing some, then erasing it all. He answers a couple of emails but couldn’t tell anyone what he wrote if they asked.

After lunch, Kei’s at least capable of doing a little work. His team gathers together in a conference room to work on a few projects. They’re focused but the air is thick with tension.

By the time he gets home, he feels more drained than usual. Kei replies to Kuroo later that evening in bed. 

Kei>> Maybe, I don’t know how this week is going to go. Not starting well.

He watches the chat screen for a couple of minutes until it starts to dim. What’s he waiting for? He flips his phone over on his nightstand and tries to fall asleep, fails, then tries again with a pillow over his head and the sheets pulled up to his face. 

 

***

 

The next morning, Kei wakes up feeling like his brain is stuffed with cotton. He’s exhausted and he still can’t get rid of the tight feeling in his chest, like something wants to burst out through his throat. All night long he had stress dreams about getting let go. In one he was told he’d be able to keep his job if he got a specific piece of paper to the second floor in time, but the hallways kept changing and people kept getting in his way. In another he had to move back home to Miyagi only to find that his family had moved and he couldn’t find anyone he knew. 

He shuts off his alarm and sees that Kuroo replied last night. 

Kuroo>> I’m sorry. That sucks.  
Kuroo>> Is everything okay?  
Kuroo>> What happened?  
Kuroo>> well, it’s been a long time since you sent that, so I’m going to assume you’re asleep  
Kuroo>> I hope you’re sleeping well.  
Kuroo>> and hope tomorrow’s better! 

He looks at Kuroo’s texts over and over as he gets ready and heads to work much earlier than he usually would.

Throughout the morning, there’s hardly any chatter. Everyone’s at their desks, speaking only when it’s necessary and even then, quickly and in hushed tones. 

Except at lunch. Perched above a convenient store salad, Kei hears the woman next to him talking to her friend. They’re whispering, but he gets enough of their conversation. “Don’t worry -- we’ve got seniority -- not going to be us -- bad for the juniors -- oh hush, we’re fine.”

Suddenly, it’s all anyone talks about for the rest of the day. When there are no words spoken, he sees it in the worried stares of his coworkers. 

The entire train ride home he calculates the sum of all of his bills and figures out how long he could live on his savings. It isn’t long. The train is stuffy and someone’s elbow keeps hitting his back. He makes a task list. Update his resume. Draft an email to send to his old boss. Reach out to his engineering friends, see if they know of any new jobs. If he’s careful, if he plans well, even if he does get laid off, he can be alright. His chest feels tight. He can’t take deep breaths even when he tries. It’s the train. It’s just hot on the train.

It isn’t the train. 

He gets home and throws off his shirt and pants and turns the AC unit on high. He sits in front of the stream of air trying to get control of his breathing. His arms feel prickly. His fingers shake as he scrolls through messages. His instincts tell him to be alone, to sit in this feeling because he’s earned it with his choices. He forces himself to do the opposite. 

Tadashi’s at work. Kei’s bothered him so much lately. He sighs, typing a message.

Kei>> Hey, let me know if you’re free at lunch. Hope you’re having a good day. 

It’s too much. It doesn’t sound like him. Tadashi will know something is weird. He sends it anyway. 

Eiko’s probably home. 

Kei>> Doing anything tonight? Dinner?

Yachi would understand. 

Kei>> You busy tonight?

Kei pulls his knees to his chest and rests his head there, his breath uneven, gritting his teeth as he tries to will his heartbeat to slow. No replies come. Everyone’s probably busy. Kei slumps against his living room wall, legs stretched out in front of him and waits. 

Still no replies. He’s worrying about nothing. Who wants to hear him complain anyway? He pulls his legs to his chest again. Everyone else is busy without him. They’re busy with their lives where they have everything figured out and they don’t make screw up all the time and they have plans - 

He stands up, letting his phone drop to the floor. Kei goes to his bedroom and hurriedly puts on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He picks up his phone from the floor on his way out the front door. 

 

***

 

It’s not until Kei’s outside Kuroo’s front door that he pauses long enough to think about how stupid this is. Impulse alone had carried him this far. On the train he’d tapped his fingers on every surface and turned up the volume on his music as loud as it could go. 

Now that he’s here, hand raised to ring the bell, he knows it was the wrong choice. Just like everything. He starts to turn away, ready to take an anxiety-fueled walk around a different neighborhood before he gets back on the train.

“Tsukki?”

Kei freezes. He hears the rustling of keys and a plastic bag behind him. He sighs, resigned to the consequences of his choices, and tries to fix his expression into something normal as he finishes turning on his heels. 

“Sorry, did I forget th-- What’s wrong?” Kuroo takes a step forward but stops. Kei can’t meet his eyes, but he catches the downturn of his lips. 

“Fine - I was just nearby so - “ his voice cracks despite how hard he’s trying. Of course it would. He sinks down to the concrete, folding his legs into himself, the brick digging into his back.

He hears Kuroo set down the bag and feels him settle in beside him. His arm lines up against his, he rests his knee along Kei’s leg, but he doesn’t say anything. Kei feels the coiled spring in his chest start to let go, but he grits his teeth and twists his fingers into the loose fabric of his shorts. 

Kuroo raises his arm and gently wraps it around Kei’s shoulders. “Sometimes things can be really shitty.”

“Yea.” A short, throaty laugh erupts from somewhere deep inside of him. Kei rests his hands against his stomach and stares at them as he winds his fingers together. “Work is shitty.”

Kuroo hums knowingly, tracing small circles on Kei’s shoulder. 

“My brain is worse, though.” Kei adds quietly. 

Kuroo chuckles. “Now that I understand.” The hand that was on Kei’s shoulder slides over and up his neck, playing with the short ends of Kei’s hair. The evening air is still hot and humid and Kei knows he’s sweaty, but his eyes close and he leans towards Kuroo, his head coming to rest on his shoulder. Kei’s still tense, but he can breathe now. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, there’s an alarm sounding, reminding him that sitting here like this with Kuroo is one of the things that confuses him the most, but he finds the thought easy to ignore as Kuroo strokes the back of his neck with gentle fingers. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kuroo breaks the silence they’d settled into.

Kei shrugs. 

“That works. I wouldn’t know what to say anyway. But I am really good at nodding and saying ‘that sucks.’”

“People are going to get laid off.”

“That sucks.” Kuroo pauses, his fingers falling still. “Fuck, that really sucks.”

“And I don’t even know if it’s me, but I thought about it for two days until I drove myself nuts. It’s so dumb.”

“Have you tried sitting in your closet?” Kei’s head snaps up and he meets Kuroo’s eyes for the first time. They look sad and warm. “That’s what I do. I sit in my closet and feel bad for myself.”

Kei wipes at his right eye with the back of his hand. “Why?”

“Sometimes you need a good, solid pity party. I’ve been holding a lot of those lately.” He trails his fingertips up through Kei’s hair. “But then I get back up, because, like, what else am I going to do?”

Kei swallows hard. He blinks and realizes they haven’t broken eye contact since he looked up. “You make it sound easy.” His voice comes out so much quieter than he expected.

“It’s not, but I can help.” Kuroo moves closer. He whispers, “You can sit with me in my closet if you want.” A smile cracks at the corner of his mouth. 

Kei leans the rest of the way in, closing his eyes and kissing him where that tiny smile formed. Kuroo relaxes into him, still gently holding the back of Kei’s head. Everything for a moment is steady, slow and warm, until a door shuts on the floor above them and Kei jolts back, suddenly aware of the fact that they’re outside. 

“Do you want to come inside? I have friends coming over soon, and actually, they’d be--”

“It’s fine. I came over without asking first. I just - thanks - I’ll just head home.” He starts to move out of Kuroo’s touch and tries not to notice as Kuroo’s smile becomes a thin, straight line. “I don’t want to barge in. You already -- thanks.” He says again, not sure where the balance is between showing gratitude and needing to leave before Kuroo’s friends show up. 

“It’s cool. It’s just Bokuto and Ak--”

“Tsukishima?” A friendly voice booms across the short space. Kei’s eyes snap up to see Bokuto, eyes wide in surprise, and Akaashi trailing behind him. “Oh man! It’s been so long! How are ya?”

Kei stands up quickly and Kuroo follows with a grunt. “Actually, I was just leaving -- need to get back home.” His words come out choppy and forced. Kei focuses on Kuroo a moment more before he looks towards Bokuto and Akaashi. 

“Yea, maybe next time, right?” Kuroo fixes his attention on Kei when their eyes meet again. Kuroo bites at his bottom lip. 

Bokuto looks between them and his big grin grows a little smaller, but is still stretched wide across his face. “Aw, okay. Good to see you, though!” 

When Kei passes by Kuroo, his fingers lace through Kei’s briefly before letting them slip through. The gesture makes Kei blink his eyes quickly as he awkwardly tries to dash pass the other two. Bokuto claps him on the back before turning to ask Kuroo what he picked up at the store. As he walks past Akaashi, he holds his head up a little higher. He makes their eyes meet until Akaashi looks away and says something to Bokuto. 

Kei’s footsteps fall heavy on the sidewalk. He digs his earbuds out of his pocket and shoves them into his ears, cranking up his music. It’s just too much. Too quick. Everything. He can’t keep up. He starts walking faster. 

A notification interrupts his song. 

He starts jogging. He grounds himself in the feeling of his shoes hitting the pavement and sending sensations up his legs. 

Two more notifications. 

Kei runs. He runs like he’s twelve and Tadashi just yelled ‘go!’ and they’re both streaming down the street as fast as they can until their chests are heaving, their limbs feel like rubber, and tears run down their faces from laughing too hard.

Halfway to the station he feels tears slip down his face. Kei runs faster until he’s at the station, breathless and tired. He bends over to catch his breath, hands on his knees, and harshly wipes away any trails of wetness from his cheeks. 

He waits until he’s in a seat on the train before he unlocks his phone.

Kuroo>> You could have stayed. I would have liked that.  
Kuroo>> Just, can you text me when you get home?  
Kuroo>> this all kinda makes me want to go sit in my closet. Ha? 

Too much, he thinks again, too quick. And this time he can’t run. He goes to turn up the volume and realizes it’s already as high as it can go. Kei flattens his lips into a tight line and shuts his eyes, counting the stops so he doesn’t miss his own. 

He keeps seeing Kuroo in front of him, right after he smiled and joked that Kei could sit in his closet, too. In the hurricane of things about life that he can’t seem get a handle on, remembering that look feels like the calm right in the center. 

When he walks through his front door, Kei kicks off his shoes and throws his keys on the floor. He takes a few steps and stops to just sit on the floor, his back to the wall. He sits in the dark, his cheek propped on top of his knees. 

Every couple of minutes, little names pop up on his phone, lighting the room before they dim. Tadashi. Yachi. Eiko. He leaves his phone on the floor and stares down his hallway lit only by the street lamps pouring through his still-open blinds and lets time pass. 

He just needs time to think. That’s all. He breathes in and out, counting his breath as he tries to fill his lungs, hold it, then let it go more slowly each time. If he can clear out the fog and think, then he can make a plan for everything. If he can think, he can be careful. Being careful is the only way to make sure he doesn’t get thrown into another mistake. Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out. Think.

Kei startles at a knock at his door.

Slowly he stands, unsure if he really heard it or if he imagined it. He pauses, waiting. There’s another knock. “Kei?”

He holds his breath and looks through the peephole in his door to see Kuroo standing on the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! 
> 
> I got really, really stuck on this chapter. It felt like a BIGGIE and I wanted to take my time, but then nothing I wrote felt right, and then I had moved apartments, and had some life stress pop up, and then I wrote some for "Yuri on Ice," and, and, and *phew.* I usually don't post this late (US Eastern), but I finished earlier this evening, revised, and just couldn't sit on it until morning. 
> 
> I hope you liked it!
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by free bottles of Merlot and the writer beast re-discovering her love of 90s Sarah McLachlan and Natalie Merchant. Some of those songs were, like, BIG MOOD for this chapter.
> 
> You're all the best! ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )


	12. I care about you so much.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Kuroo shows up at his place, Kei opens the door and they finally, actually talk about some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate summaries for this chapter:
> 
> 1) Yo dawg, I heard you liked dialogue. So, I put some dialogue in your dialogue so you can dialogue while you dialogue.
> 
> 2) That time That One Scene that was supposed to be 1/3 of a chapter and, instead, became the whole chapter.

Kei’s still holding his breath to remain silent on the other side of the door when he hears and feels Kuroo knock again. Right after the second knock, his phone vibrates from its spot on the floor. 

Letting go of his held breath with a sigh, he opens his front door just enough for him to peek through. He keeps the security chain locked. 

Kuroo’s head snaps up at the motion. His lips are parted and his cheeks are a little pink. Kei tries really hard not to notice the way his hair is startling to deflate the way it does at night, softly framing his face. He looks at Kuroo’s shoes. 

“You didn’t text me, so --” Kuroo’s voice trails off as he peers at Kei through the crack he’s opened.

“So - ?” 

“Seemed like the night for this kind of thing.” Kuroo rocks on the balls of his feet and Kei’s eyes follow the lines of his legs to where his hands are shoved into his jean pockets. 

Kei steps back and unlatches the door so he can open it little farther, enough for him to lean on the frame and try to actually talk, but still have half of his body protected. “How’d you remember where I lived anyway?” 

Kuroo shrugs and Kei watches the way his muscles move under his t-shirt. It’s nothing he’s never seen before, and truthfully he’s seen so much more, but the way his insides are turning is making him far too aware of everything little thing is different. Familiar, but different. 

“I’m good with directions?” 

Kei hums in response and silence takes over. Running his fingertips over the edge of the door, he keeps slipping his foot a little farther back so it starts to creep open. 

“Sorry I didn’t send a message.” He keeps the rest of that sentence in his mind. ‘I wasn’t thinking about it. I was distracted. I was and still am confused about a lot and you’re somehow both a part of my problems and the solution to some of them at the same time.’ 

“It’s fine, I was just worried.”

Kei feels a weight on his shoulders. This is a pattern, too, he knows. Kei tips over the edge of what he can hold inside and he makes the people in his life worry. There’s probably messages from Tadashi filling up his inbox right now. Maybe from Yachi and Eiko, too. And all for nothing because he could have just kept it in his own brain like he usually does. 

But another, better feeling starts to bubble up and prick at his skin. The two conflicting emotions swirl around and mix in his already exhausted mind. It’s enough to make him feel nauseous. In these moments, Kei swears he leaves his body and can watch himself fumble and stress. From the outside there’s so much clarity. It’s fine! Kuroo is easy to talk to! Feelings are normal! But in actuality he can’t form words and his movements become awkward and choppy like a newborn deer. 

“Can we - can we talk?” Kuroo takes a small step forward. 

Kuroo worried about him, Kei reminds himself. He came to check on him. 

“Sure - just -” Kei doesn’t finish his thought. He steps back and pushes the door open the rest of the way, stepping out of his entryway so Kuroo could come in. 

Kei knows that Tadashi is there for him, his other friends, too, in their own ways. But Kuroo worried, too.

And he went to Kuroo’s in the first place. 

Kei fumbles for the light switch once he’s back in his hallway, finally fully aware of the fact that he’d been sitting in darkness. He wants to roll his eyes at himself. The moment light fills the room he fears how he must seem to Kuroo right now, drained and distant. The way Kuroo looks at him after taking off his shoes makes him cringe inside. He doesn’t want pity. 

But then Kuroo smiles. “Your place still makes me feel like I like in a trash heap.”

Kei stands a little taller. “Not too far from the truth, right?” His voice still sounds small.

Kuroo keeps going, leaning against the opposite wall. “You wound me, Tsukki. I’m a creative type. I’m supposed to live in chaos.”

“So what would that make me?” Kei clears his throat. The words are forced on his end, and he expects it’s the same from Kuroo, but the familiar back and forth feels right. 

“I don’t know. What does it make you?” And Kuroo sounds the way he always does, irritatingly playful, but there’s a new, unmistakable layer.

He’s left Kei an opening. “An organized mess of a person, I guess.” He takes it. 

“Well, you’re in good company.” Kuroo says, a gentle smile on his lips, a little downturned at the edges. 

They dance around each other in the hallway, stepping around or on top of each other like kids at a middle school dance. The conversation wades in the shallow end and Kei feels too aware of what his body is doing as he walks through his own home. He offers Kuroo tea before he thinks about the words he’s saying, but decides to take the time in the kitchen to steady his hands and his thoughts. 

He takes comfort in the ritual, picking out two matching mugs and measuring out the amount of leaves to put into each tiny, metal tea ball. The kettle pops and he pours liquid into each mug and sets the timer on his microwave for two minutes. 

Kei snorts a small puff of laughter when he remembers the arguments between Tadashi and himself over the amount of time necessary to seep certain teas. This particular tea is one of his best friend’s favorites. Tadashi would have pushed for three minutes. 

Two mugs in hand, Kei rounds the corner into his living room and braces himself for the worst of his nerves to take over again. Kuroo’s sitting with his back to Kei on the edge of the couch cushion, resting his forearms on his thighs. As Kei walks closer, softly dragging socked feet along the wood floors, his body is, naturally, still swimming with leftover anxious energy but it’s not as weird as Kei thinks it should be. 

Uncomfortable given the circumstances. But a little fine. 

Kei’s barely set Kuroo’s mug on a coaster before the other man starts talking. “It’s only fair since, you know, earlier, but can I tell you why my brain is also horrible? The pity parties in my closet?”

He nods, humming his agreement. Kei wouldn’t mind feeling a little less alone in that. 

Leaving some space between them, Kei sits with his mug in hand, perched on the edge of his couch. He watches Kuroo stare at the window on the opposite wall and fidget with his hands. 

“If you want to.” He tries to sound as thoughtful as he can, but there’s hard edges in his tone that he doesn’t really want there. He borrows a phrase from Kuroo. “I don’t usually know what to say, but I can be good at nodding along and saying ‘that sucks.’” 

Kuroo turns and smiles, his cheek still pressed up against his fist. He looks smaller, all hunched over with his elbow on his knee. “Just been a weird year. Like, a hard two years. I see my friends, the ones I’m close to, reaching goals and checking all these boxes on the ‘good life list,’ and I’m over there, with no goals, just going along, carving shapes into wood, living in this tiny place, working a job that pays me something but not much. What am I doing?”

Kei runs through lists of things he can say. He could keep the inside joke rolling and say “that sucks,” but it doesn’t fit, not with the way Kuroo’s looking at him. The words he usually reaches for are all short and insincere. They’re all the ways he usually excuses himself from real conversations. 

He wants to reach out and touch him, the way Kuroo did for him when he was upset. He could run his fingers through his hair and make him feel better, but his body doesn’t move. He’s stuck in a loop of criss-crossed signals of what he wants to do, what he should do, and what he can do. 

“You’re doing fine.” Kei knows he’s been quiet too long, so he pushes out the first thing he can actually get out. It’s not right. He stutters, correcting. “I mean, you might not feel fine, I obviously understand that -”

Kuroo snorts. A smile cracks at the corner of Kei’s mouth. He continues more slowly. “- but I don’t see anything wrong with it.” Kei pauses, picking his next few words. “Are you happy?” He remembers the time Kuroo asked him if he had been happy with Touma. Something warm but wistful blooms in his chest. 

“I thought I was, but I keep feeling left behind, and the things that I do want,” he pauses, “I don’t really go for anymore.” 

“What do you want?” Kei asks the question knowing it’s broad enough to mean anything in Kuroo’s life, but he selfishly knows where he wants the conversation go. 

How had he possibly convinced himself that he didn’t know how he felt about Kuroo? Kei keeps remembering how much better he felt when he leaned onto Kuroo’s chest outside Kuroo’s front door, how much he liked feeling his fingers in his hair and listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat through his t-shirt. Kei knows. 

Kuroo looks back towards the window and lets silent moments pass between them. When he turns back, he looks tense. “Can I ask you something that you already asked me once?”

Kei’s stomach clenches. There’s so many ways this could go.

He wraps his fingers around his mug, favoring the sting from the too-hot tea inside. “Of course. Yea.”

“I want to ask you, ‘what is this to you?’ But I know I wouldn’t give you time to answer, at least not until I’ve given mine.” Kuroo drops his hands into his lap. The look he gives Kei is so genuine and open. Kei tries to read his face. It isn’t sad or worried, but it’s clear he’s struggling. 

That thought is a comfort for a moment until Kei wonders if he was, like he always seems to end up, the source of someone else’s struggle.

Kuroo speaks slowly and Kei listens with a lump forming in his throat. “Last time when you asked, I didn’t really answer. I said it was ‘fine.’ I told you that I liked the way things were. I wasn’t really lying, but that also wasn’t everything. God,” he laughs, rubbing his face in his hands, “this is hard. I want to jog around your room while the pressurized lava of feelings erupts.”

“You can.” Kei sets down his tea. “Run around, I mean.” He looks for a way to lighten the situation, take away some of the vulnerability from Kuroo’s face, but his heart is beating too quickly right now to not need to hear the rest. “Or this can just go how it normally goes?”

“What?” 

Kei stammers through his clarification. “You know, how it goes when you talk at night and I let it happen because I’m already there and,” he swallows hard choosing his next words carefully, “I’m not going anywhere - not until morning. So it’s like that. I’ll listen.” He adds the last part quickly.

A smile tugs on the corner of Kuroo’s lips. He doesn’t get up to pace, but he does continue, slow and thoughtful. “Maybe it didn’t mean that much to you when you said it, but do you remember when I was talking about going to the art show and seeing real artists and without even changing your tone of voice you just said that I was a real artist?”

Kei thinks for a moment and nods, remembering the first time he came over to find Kuroo stuffing his face with takeout and they had to sit and actually kind of talk. 

Kuroo starts to gesture as he talks, breaking eye contact for moments before focusing on Kei again. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that, right then, how much I needed to hear that. And it meant so much coming from you.” 

He pauses and shifts back a little, relaxing into the couch but still looking stiff. “I’d been wondering how I felt about you, trying to figure it out, right? But then, right when you said that, I just knew. I mean, something clicked in me, right? I still took a lot longer to finally sort it out but I did.”

Kuroo groans, running a hand through his hair. He speaks quickly. “It took so long because I held back everything, all the time. That wasn’t fair to you, and definitely not to me. Just, I’m so worried about the way I read you. I seem to always fall on the wrong side of ‘Tsukki’ and I couldn’t stand to have you disappear.” The implicit “not again” hangs heavy in the air between them. Kuroo locks eyes expectantly. 

Kei feels exhausted and wide awake at the same time. He finds his voice somewhere in the clatter of his heartbeat. “But you did figure it out?”

Kuroo nods. “I care about you so much.” He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again, biting his lip. When he speaks again, he’s quiet. “To me, this is something that I pretended started casually, but it never was for me. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I should have. Somewhere in my head I’ve known for a long time. So, what is this to you?” 

For the world’s longest second, Kei watches Kuroo’s eyes start to look watery and his mouth upturn at the corners. Now or never. He wishes he had words ready, something practiced, something perfect. There are words, better words, twisting around in his mind but when he opens his mouth, all that leaves is, “I want more than what we had. I care about you, too.”

Kuroo leans over and wraps his arms around Kei’s middle, landing with his face between Kei’s shoulder and his neck. Kuroo sniffles and laughs, the sound thick with emotion. “I like you. I like you so much.”

“I like you, too.” Kei places one arm around Kuroo’s back and the other cradles his head, gently twisting through the soft strands. He feels like he needs to do more than just respond. Kuroo deserves that much. He starts to talk but finds he has to clear his throat first. “I’m happier around you.” 

Kei screws his eyes shut as Kuroo holds him tighter. 

The tea grows colder as they sit like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms with Kuroo saying every cliche, high-school love confession phrase he can think of. There’s a tremendous amount of sniffling and eye wiping mixed with a fair amount of snotty laughter. 

When Kei pulls back to grab a box of tissues, Kuroo doesn’t let go. He moves his hands up Kei’s arms and rests them gently on either side of his face. With Kuroo looking at him like that, Kei feels ridiculously important. The kisses that follow are soft and sweet. Kei catches Kuroo smiling against his lips more than once. 

Eventually, he does get tissues and he laughs at the way Kuroo blows his nose. They sit back down together, Kuroo’s arm around Kei’s shoulders, and Kei rests his head against Kuroo’s chest. Kei has no idea if Kuroo feels similarly emotionally drained, but they’re both quiet. It’s a good quiet, though, comfortable and safe. Kei closes his eyes with a content sigh as Kuroo cards his fingers through his hair. 

“You coming to the art thing on Saturday?”

“I was planning on it, and especially now-” Kei lets his voice trail off. 

“So, what can I call you on Saturday, like to my friends? Colleagues? Wealthy patrons?” Kuroo chuckles, but Kei feels the weight of the question. He stiffens. 

Kuroo must feel his physical reaction. “Tsukki, I’m sorry, but I’m going to push. We’re finally talking and my brain has had weeks and weeks of stuffed down thoughts and I am going to push because if I don’t I’m going to explode. Just, like, I’m trying to be less scared and just go for it, but I want you to know where it’s coming from.”

He kisses the top of Kei’s head. When he starts talking again, his voice is close to Kei’s ear. “I’m all in. You don’t have to worry about telling me where you are right now, or even know where you are yourself. I just need you to know that when I am my normal self, when I am a lot, when I come on way too strong, it’s because I’m all in.”

Kei lets the words wash over him as he processes. He thinks about what’s on the other side of tonight. There’s so much left to figure out. Kuroo’s all in, but Kei’s not sure how much of him is still intact to give when he’s so sure every relationship he touches will fail. There’s a whole world outside of his living room that makes it all so much more complicated. There’s a lot of question marks threatening to burst the comfortable little bubble that exists right now. 

Kuroo squeezes his shoulder. “That, all whatever that is that’s making you tense up, that’s for later. Right now, just, let’s just be okay with feeling happy. I want that.”

Kei whispers his reply. “I want that, too.”

 

***

 

Kei’s alarm hits him like a freight train the next morning. Blinking, he gets his bearings. He’s on the couch, not his bed, and he’s tangled in a mess of limbs, half of whom belong to Kuroo. 

Reaching out, Kei grabs his phone off of his table and stares at the numbers, trying to decipher them on so little sleep. It takes him far too long to figure out what the alarm is for, and even longer to remember what day it is, before he finally shuts it off. 

He twists onto his back, turning his head so he can see Kuroo, his head propped uncomfortably on the arm of his couch. Kei has no idea how he slept through his alarm, but in the moment, he’s grateful. He’s seen him asleep on the other side of Kuroo’s bed often enough now that he shouldn’t look any different right now. But in Kei’s apartment, their legs tied together, with Kuroo’s face much closer than it usually is in the morning, he does seem different. 

At his own place, on a typical morning, Kuroo’s usually the first awake anyway, so Kei often misses this entirely. On the rare mornings Kuroo sleeps in later, his mouth is always wide open, his arms sprawled across the bed and his feet reaching into Kei’s space. He looks like someone who barely made it to bed and just passed out. 

This morning he looks calmer, Kei decides. Maybe he’s just exhausted. Kei hopes it’s something else. 

Kei untangles himself carefully. He takes his time and stops more than a few times to just look at sleepy Kuroo. His chest feels warm and full. He considers calling out today, but on a week when people are getting let go, he decides it’s a terrible idea. 

In his bathroom he starts his normal routine, but pauses to check if he has an extra toothbrush or anything else Kuroo might need. He scrunches up his face when he realizes he has nothing. He barely has enough products for himself, if he’s honest. He readies what he can before stepping back out.

Kuroo’s awake and scrolling through messages on his phone. He must hear Kei behind him because he bends his head back awkwardly so he can look in Kei’s direction upside-down over the arm of the couch. 

“Good morning.” Kei grins.

Kuroo beams wide and sits up, patting the seat next to him. 

Kei walks in front of him, but stops. “We both have to go to work, you know.” 

Groaning dramatically, Kuroo throws back his head. When he bounces back, he takes Kei’s hands in his and looks up at him pleadingly. “Can’t we just not?”

There’s a lot more whining on Kuroo’s part and a little bit more half-hearted convincing on Kei’s part before Kei’s dressed for work and Kuroo’s at least off the couch and snacking on breakfast bars Kei dug out of the back of his pantry. 

“Sorry you have to go all the way back to your place.” Kei’s already running behind. He can’t imagine how late Kuroo’s going to be today, but there’s no way anyone could go to work in the wrinkled, slept-in, obviously quickly thrown on clothes Kuroo’s wearing.

“Don’t be. I came here. I stayed. Worth it. Plus, I’ll just tell my boss I have diarrhea.” Kuroo cackles as they walk together towards the front door. 

Kei scrunches up his nose. “That’s disgusting. Don’t say that.”

Shrugging, Kuroo adds, “No one can question it. You can always get away with stomach stuff.” He nudges Kei’s shoulder with his own.

Kei turns towards him, gently twisting his fingers in Kuroo’s soft t-shirt. “Alright, well, I hope you’re not too tired today.”

“Oh, I could run a marathon on the energy I have going on right now.” Kuroo leans in closer. “I’ll crash later, but right now I’m awesome.”

Kei agrees. Everything else might feel like a giant mess, but right now actually is kind of awesome. They celebrate with warm kisses in his entryway, the kind that would make Kei roll his eyes if he was having to watch it happen. But being half of it? Kei forgets his hang ups as each moment makes him feel a little lighter.

Kuroo puts his hand on the door handle, but twists around again. “Remember. I’m all in.” He gives Kei one final serious look and lets his words hold some weight before grinning again. “Okay, have a good day at work, Tsukishima Kei.” Kuroo sings as he opens the door wide. 

The fondness in Kuroo’s smile and his voice makes Kei’s heart feel too full. “Have a good day at work, Kuroo Tetsurou.”

 

***

 

On the train ride to work, Kei texts Tadashi after reading the sea of texts he sent the night before. 

Kei>> sorry for my weird text. I think I made you worry  
Kei>> everything’s fine  
Kei>> good

He types the next message over and over again, erasing and retyping. Trying to end on a positive note makes him cringe, but this is Tadashi. Kei can talk this way to him of all people. 

Kei>> we can talk later if you want. But I think something good happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wahoo, ch 12! ( •̀ᄇ• ́)ﻭ✧
> 
> Heavens, my outline for that first scene was not that long, but it took on a life of its own. Like I said at the beginning notes, that One Scene reaaaaaally took over and I just let it. That means some stuff that I thiiiiink some of you are waiting for has been pushed to ch 13, but *shrug* this is what Ch 12 yelled at me to do. I just listened. 
> 
> The reception to ch 11 blew my mind. The amount of comments had me walking on air for days. You all are such a treasure. (｢･ω･)｢
> 
> This chapter was brought to you by a strange cocktail of Fall Out Boy, Florence and the Machine, and Panic! At the Disco (literally always p!atd) -- but truly, just an overwhelming amount of Florence. Especially "Hunger" off the new album.  
> ヾ(⌐■_■)ノ♪


	13. Someone will treasure you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei goes to work after his long night, talks to Kuroo, Tadashi, and - finally - Akaashi.

Leaving another tense meeting, Kei pauses outside the restroom to check his phone. He did his best to pay attention as he felt it vibrate in his pocket over and over for the past few minutes. 

Kuroo>> you make it to work on time?  
Kuroo>> I was soooooooo late.  
Kuroo>> Coulda been there sooner, but I decided to milk the stomach issues excuse and sit on my couch and drink my coffee in peace this morning  
Kuroo>> I know how to live (⌐■_■)  
Kuroo>> you still have so much you can learn from me

He smirks and rolls his eyes.

Kei>> no thanks. I’m good.  
Kei>> don’t need tips for how to be late for work

The reply comes almost immediately. 

Kuroo>> think of all of your unpaid overtime - we all earn some couch time

Kei watches the symbol that tells him he’s still typing. Kuroo’s not wrong. Over the past few weeks - no, honestly, since he’s started working here - Kei’s come in early and left late most days. 

Kuroo>> especially when I’ve spent the previous night with such fine company and I need to sit there and think about some Really Nice Shit

Kei>> oh, and that is…? 

Kuroo>> nothing in particular  
Kuroo>> just that you’re obviously so lucky to have meeee ヾ(⌐■_■)ノ♪

Kei>> ┐(￣ー￣)┌

Kuroo>> (」゜ロ゜)」  
Kuroo>> (ノ-_-)ノ~┻━┻

The workday is long and weird. The end of the week is approaching quickly and Kei’s still on edge, just like most of his coworkers. They trudge through the day together and keep their heads down, working hard. He’s still worried, naturally, but dumb texts whenever either of them have a free moment keep him from obsessing. 

He goes out with his team after work and learns that two members of the accounting department were let go earlier that day. The first to be dismissed. Together they nurse their beers and talk about literally anything else besides work.

Kei sits back like he usually does, providing quiet company and cracking comments with a raised eyebrow when absolutely necessary. He keeps his phone on his leg so he can see when new messages arrive. 

He doesn’t hide it well enough. One of his teammates comments on him smiling at his phone. The rest of them turn to stare knowingly at Kei. They share a few jokes at his expense, pondering Kei’s ideal girlfriend type. 

Kei shrugs while wearing a smug grin. It earns him howls of laughter from the table and more good-natured teasing about his potential love life. Kei doesn’t mind. To them, he’s full of secrets, and while they’re fine to work with, he’s content to keep it that way. 

As they part ways, he gets a message from Tadashi.

Tadashi>> I’m going to lunch about 8:30 your time. Can I call? 

Kei>> talk to you soon, then

Tadashi>> GOOD. 

 

***

 

“I was worried when I didn’t hear back from you. You can’t do that! But good things?”

Kei closes his eyes on his bed, one arm resting gently across his face, as he tells Tadashi as much as he feel ready to share. That he had somewhat of a meltdown. That he went to Kuroo’s but stressed out and came back home. (He leaves out Bokuto and Akaashi.) That Kuroo came to his place. That they talked and he stayed over (not like that!). That they texted all day. That work still sucks, but the day wasn’t too bad. 

He knows his friend will understand and connect the dots in between like he always does. Or at least he will be able to connect the dots when he’s not interrupting Kei to hurriedly ask “and then what happened?”

“I’m really glad.” Tadashi sighs into the phone. 

“I am, too.” Kei admits and lets the feeling fill him up before the rest of what he knows he needs to talk about spills out. After years of being close friends, Tadashi’s more like another piece of his own mind than a best friend. “There’s a lot I don’t know what to do about, though. There’s a history I’ll have to deal with.”

“Relationships aren’t ever easy. Right now, enjoy the ‘everything is new’ bubble while you can.”

“And I will.” Kei tries to defend himself, but it’s Tadashi. This is his one chance to process without his own brain saying the worst responses on repeat. His best friend is so much kinder to him than he is to himself. “But then the rest of the shit comes.”

“Or it won’t.”

Kei hums in response.

Tadashi continues. “Or it will, but you’re not dealing with it all by yourself, you know that, right?”

“I have to explain so much.”

“What? That you’re a person and you did human things like lose touch and date somebody? I’ll say it again - you don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“I don’t know how he’ll take it.” Sometimes Kei runs scenarios in his mind where he tells Kuroo about Akaashi, when he admits that at first they lost touch just because that’s how life goes, but how dating Akaashi made him finally close that door. When he pictures it, when he practices what he’ll say, it never goes well. 

“He lost touch with you, too. That’s not a one-way decision.”

Tadashi doesn’t get it. Kuroo tried. He sent texts. He called. Somewhere in his mind, Kei understands that his friend rationally has a point, but it’s tough to believe. 

“You care about him though? And he cares about you, too?” Tadashi continues. 

“Yea.”

“So then you’re okay. Everything is okay.” Not everything will be okay, but that is already is. Kei tucks the words into his heart as his friend keeps sharing. 

“I promise, no relationship is easy. For me, I mean, you know all the baggage I carried into this marriage. I was an upbeat, delightful pile of insecurities. Still am!” Tadashi chuckles and Kei does, too. “And you have everything you carry with you, too, I know, but I swear, the right person - how do I say it - they don’t take over your burden. They can’t fix it all because they’re not you and they don’t have the same experiences, but they help you have the strength to be yourself a little bit better than you were before.”

 

***

 

During the night Kei dreams about visiting Tadashi in London. His friend’s apartment is a weird dream-made mix of Tadashi’s childhood home and their first year classroom at Karasuno. When he wakes up he can’t remember much of what they did, but he recalls getting lost in a shopping mall with Tadashi and having to dig their way out through a wall together. They laughed the whole time. 

Kei wakes up before his alarm and gets out of bed. He takes his usual deep breaths as he wiggles his toes on his floor, opens every blind in his apartment in the exact same order as he does every morning, and goes through the rest of his morning routine. 

He ends up leaving early for work and gets a seat on the train. After picking the music for his morning commute he sends three texts.

The first is to Tadashi, thanking him for being there and making a joke about hauling around their collective baggage.

The second is to Kuroo. Kei rewrites it three times before hitting send. He ends up just wishing him a good morning. 

He wants to ask about tomorrow now that he’s unsure what their typical Friday might look like now. Is it the same? Were they already basically dating? What does Kuroo expect? He lets the questions hang in his mind for later. 

For the last text, he has to scroll down into messages from a few weeks ago to send a reply. 

Akaashi. There’s a little bell with a line through it from when he silenced the text chain, but he didn’t delete it. Depending on how things went, he knew there would inevitably be a loose end to handle. 

Kei reads his own words back to himself and remembers the emotional gut punch he received the moment he sent the words “we’re just hanging out.” 

He closes his eyes and sees Kuroo in front of his door, turning back around to remind Kei that he’s “all in.” Kei steels his nerves, committed to making sure Kuroo doesn’t best him in being brave enough to dive in. He’ll do it, too. As much as he can, he’ll push himself to do it, too. 

He’s surprised to see that Akaashi replied just a few minutes after Kei sent that last message. 

Akaashi>> Sorry I misread the situation. I still would like a chance to speak with you, but I understand if that’s not an option. 

Without meaning to, he reads every word in Akaashi’s voice and it makes something heavy settle in his heart. It feels the same as when he saw him outside of Kuroo’s apartment. Kei’s startled when he remembers that was only a couple of days ago. 

Now or never. Just send it, he repeats to himself. 

Kei>> I might have some free time today. 

He leaves it vague intentionally, but then panics because he can’t decide which would be worse - meeting in person or just talking on the phone. 

If they met in person, he’d have to see Akaashi up close for more than few seconds, but a phone call doesn’t seem much better. Kei always feels strange on the phone, unable to decipher the nonverbal cues from the person on the other end. There’s so many ways for things to get misinterpreted. 

He knows he has to send something quickly so he can still have some control of the situation. 

Kei>> Coffee during lunch or after work?

Kei has a place in mind, but stops himself from sending the name and address just yet. He’s not eager for this interaction and he doesn’t want to come off that way. It’s just something that needs to happen and it’s probably better to rip the bandage off quickly.

He’s nearly to work when he gets a reply.

Akaashi>> Yes, thank you. I can meet today. Where do you work?

And even that seems like too much information to give. Kei ignores the question and sends a time and the address of a coffee shop down the street from where he works. 

Akaashi agrees.

The air in the office is still thick with tension the moment he steps through the doors. 

Kei shoves his phone in his bag and sits up straight in his desk chair. He can’t control if he gets laid off, but he will be damn sure to handle the things he can. Like opening his blinds every morning. Like making sure his bed is made and his clothes are put away. Like not being a passenger in his own life. 

He will work hard until he knows what will happen. He will talk to Akaashi at lunch. He will tease Kuroo in a text when he takes a break and will expect to enjoy Kuroo’s response. 

Kei finishes the rest of his coffee and gets to work. 

 

***

 

After shoving his convenient store lunch into his mouth in record time, Kei makes his way down to the street and over to the coffee shop ten minutes early so he’ll have time to settle in before Akaashi gets there. He starts to take out his earbuds as he opens the door only to look up and see that Akaashi’s already there. 

Of course he is. 

At the rattling of the bell above the door, Akaashi’s eyes snap up and meet Kei’s, a small smile at the corner of his lips, all lopsided and ill-suited for his perfect features. 

Kei tries to hide the disappointment that must be clear on his face. Just once he needed Akaashi to be less punctual so he could sit down first and take charge of the situation before the other man showed up. He walks slowly over to where Akaashi is seated towards the back of the shop along the wall and slings his bag on the back of the free chair. He doesn’t sit down yet. 

“Hi, Tsukishima.” Akaashi’s hands curl around the oversized coffee mug in front of him, the same lopsided smile still stretched across his face. His somehow still very attractive face. 

“Hey.”

Silence. 

“I’m going to go - drink, go get something to drink.” Kei walks away quickly to stand in line and feels like he needs to catch his breath. He taps his wallet against his leg as he stares at a menu he’s seen hundreds of times. 

He fumbles as he walks back, nearly dropping his wallet from how tense his limbs feel. Kei’s thankful he went for a hot tea over his typical higher dose of afternoon caffeine. The awkward anxiety plus more coffee would have rendered him more uncomfortable than he already is. 

Akaashi paints on a wider smile when Kei sits down. It doesn’t reach his eyes. For a moment Kei just takes him in, all the minor changes that four years brought to the other man’s features. 

His permanently half-lidded gaze and soft hair are remarkably unchanged, but adulthood has brought more definition to his cheekbones, like he needed it. Kei’s breath catches with four years of pent up “what ifs.” 

“Thank you for messaging me back.” Akaashi’s voice is low and quiet in the busy shop.

Kei glances down into his tea. “Sorry it took so long.”

“No need. I understand.” 

He looks back up and everything is so weird. He sits up straighter and folds his hands in his lap. “How are you?”

“Good. Things are going well. And you?”

“I’m fine.” Inwardly, he groans. Akaashi asked to meet. It’s his job to talk. 

More silence passes between them and it’s anything but comfortable. Kei wonders what Akaashi sees when he looks at him. What has four years done to the way he looks? 

“Kuroo’s had a lot to say about you recently. All good things, don’t worry.”

“Thanks?”

“I’m happy things worked out.”

“Yea, guess you were right about things progressing.” Kei tries not to sound like sulky teenager, but his tone is more harsh than he intends. He picks at the side of his mug. 

“He’s been much more like his normal self lately. I think you helped make that happen. Thank you.”

Kei doesn’t know what to say to that. Warmth spreads through his chest. He meets Akaashi’s earnest gaze again and still can’t think of a reply.

Akaashi stares straight at him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I ended things.”

And it’s like no time has passed at all, the wound reopened, fresh and new again. 

That day, Kei had showed up at Akaashi’s apartment like any normal Saturday afternoon to find Akaashi sitting on the edge of his bed, stone still. He stared right past Kei into the hallway. Akaashi said he needed to talk. He invited Kei to sit, but Kei stood in front of the closed door. 

Akaashi’s words were delivered factually, without feeling. He didn’t even look at Kei. Bokuto had come over to pour out his feelings last night. They fought. They cried. They talked. They had sex. They were getting back together. 

Without a word, Kei had turned around to walk out and slam the door hard behind him. He doesn’t remember leaving or how he got home, but he remembers pieces, like the winter wind tearing at his face, giving him a reason for his red face and silent tears in his eyes. 

When he got back to his apartment, he ignored his roommate's worried questions as Kei systematically threw away anything that reminded him of Akaashi and walked it out to the community dumpster. 

Then he’d sat on the couch for a few days, quietly missing class and skipping meals and showers until Tadashi showed up at his place with Hinata right behind him. 

“I treated you so badly. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I don’t have any excuses. I hate what I did. I’m sorry.”

For so long, Kei wanted to hear Akaashi say those words. Now that he’s heard them, he’s just frustrated and bitter. “It’s fine. You just taught me what my last relationship taught me again. I’m not the one anyone keeps.” 

In the romantic story of Akaashi and Bokuto, Kei understands he isn’t the one anyone would cheer for. He was the person standing in the way. Surely Touma had his own ‘Bokuto’ out there somewhere and one day no one would remember their little Kei-shaped bump in the road. 

“That’s not tr--”

“You don’t get to feel sorry for me. I don’t want it. I don’t know what I want from you.”

“That’s fair.”

They sit for ages. Akaashi stares at his hands. Kei’s stare bores holes into the menu hung above the cashier’s head. 

Eventually Kei clears his throat and finds a voice for the thoughts taking shape in his mind. “I know I sound like I’m angry, but that’s not it. I let go of being angry with you about what happened a long time ago. What I am feeling, this horrible thing I don’t have a name for, comes from you and my ex. It’s this unnameable thing that reminds me every single day that of course I’m the one that people leave. That it’s my fault no one sticks around.”

Akaashi doesn’t look up to face him, but Kei hears him choke back a sound and glances to see a tear slide down the side of his face. “I am so sorry.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries. Kei watches the words form on his lips as he quickly wipes his face with the back of his hand.

“I don't blame you.”

“You should.” Akaashi replies quickly, then pauses before he continues. “Nothing I can say now can heal what I did, but I want to say it out loud anyway. You are to be treasured, Tsukishima Kei. I was too selfish then to see it. And I can’t speak for this other person, but he missed it, too. Someone will treasure you.” He finally looks up, his eyes meeting Kei’s before falling back down to the table. “Kuroo already does.”

Kei’s heart is being pulled in too many directions at once. He chooses to ignore most of it for now, lock it away for later. “Why did you want to see me, anyway? Was it just because you’re friends with Kuroo and we’re probably not going to be able to avoid each other forever?”

“Yes and no. Yes because, you’re right. Kuroo’s a dear friend and I see him often. Since you’re important to him, I knew I would see you, too.” Akaashi pauses and takes a sip from his mug. “The other half of it is - since you and Kuroo started seeing one another again, he’s talked about you constantly. I wanted to just be excited for you two, but a heavy guilt always sat on my shoulders.”

Hearing that makes some ugly part of Kei feel really good. 

Akaashi sets his hands on the table, folding his elegant fingers in on themselves. “When Koutarou and I got, when we worked things out, he told me he didn’t want to know about anything that happened during that year. He knows himself, knows he’s a jealous person, and he didn’t think it would be fair to be angry at me for something I had every right to do. He doesn’t know, but Tsukishima, he will know. And soon.”

“Why? If you’ve gone this long, why now?” Kei snaps back. 

“No matter where things go with you and Kuroo, you’re at least a little bit a part of my life again. I have to settle my guilt with Koutarou, and,” he sighs” I wanted to try to do the same with you.”

“One of those isn’t possible.” 

“I thought so, and that’s fair, but I am still going to talk to Koutarou. And I’m sorry, but once Koutarou knows something, it’s only a matter of time until Kuroo knows it, too. He doesn’t speak with intent to hurt, but he’s loyal and honest. If Kuroo mentions you, he’ll hold it in as long as he can, especially since I will tell him it’s not his to share, but Kuroo will read him like an open book and drag it out of him. Koutarou can’t lie.”

Kei’s grip on his mug tightens. “Can’t you wait?” He knows what Akaashi’s telling him. There’s a time limit for talking to Kuroo. One more thing he doesn’t get to choose. 

“As long as I can, yes. I owe you as much. I know this. I can’t have this secret between us anymore, not when Kuroo keeps talking about you. I know I’m being selfish again. I hear it as I talk, but the best I can do is give you a little more time.”

“Fine.” Kei swallows hard, his throat feeling dry despite the tea he’s been drinking while Akaashi spoke. 

“I hope one day you won’t have such a good reason to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” Kei replies immediately, bringing himself to look at Akaashi again. As soon as he says the words, he knows they’re true. He doesn’t hate him. Part of him wants to, knows that he could, but he doesn’t. Underneath the years old, poorly bandaged wound, he knows Akaashi isn’t a bad person. 

“Thank you. I’m glad to hear that. You’re a wonderful person, Tsukishima.” The last few words leave his mouth slowly, like he’s waiting for each word to sink in before he says the next. 

Kei chews the inside of his mouth to keep from dismissing the kind words like he always does. He wants to believe them. He wants the most awkward coffee date of all time to be proof of that in his own mind. Finally he finds he has nothing to say in response so he checks the time and manages to say, “we’ve been here a while. I’m due back at work soon.”

Akaashi nods. “Me, too.” 

Neither of them move to leave. Kei feels like something dramatic needs to happen at the end of all of this, to close it with something that marks the monumental shift he feels inside him. Instead a waiter shatters the still moment by coming by to collect their mugs and the two of them part ways with quietly uttered goodbyes on the sidewalk outside. 

 

***

 

“I’m assuming no work news is good news at this point?” Kuroo had called a little after Kei finished eating dinner. Right away, they fell into familiar patterns of teasing, which helped Kei relax from his emotional afternoon, but as the minutes passed it became tougher to find things to talk about. Quiet lulls kept sneaking into the conversation, until Kuroo remembered to ask Kei about work. 

“Yep, still employed.” Kei replies, turning to lie on his side on his couch, putting his phone on speaker and setting it on the cushion beside him. “Way more people were let go today, like six or something? My department’s still untouched, so I don’t know about tomorrow.”

“That sucks. Anyone you knew?”

“Mostly no. There was a woman in HR that was friendly to me, but most of them were just faces I knew from meetings.” 

“Well, however tomorrow goes, we’ll still have our Friday night, right?” 

“I’d assume so.” Kei sounds stiff as he runs through the questions he wants to ask. What does Kuroo expect? Will things be different now? Should be act differently now? His talk with Akaashi made him think about way too many things all day. 

Kuroo laughs. “Yea, so if tomorrow sucks, I’ll cheer you up. If you make it through the week unscathed, we’ll celebrate.” He makes a sound like he’s going to keep talking, but stops.

Another lull. Talking shouldn’t feel so forced right now. They texted all day. This should be the same, more or less. 

Kei waits, pondering the possible problems so he can try to find solutions. Maybe Kuroo’s not sure how things are defined right now, too. Maybe Kei’s not alone in that. He runs with that train of thought because it helps keep away everything that resurfaced when he talked with Akaashi earlier. 

Maybe it’s just that they did things kind of out of order? Kei knows there’s no perfect way, but the way they’ve started certainly is different than anything he’s ever done. The solution might be in crafting a little normalcy. Kei latches onto the thought and starts speaking. “Do you want to --”

“Tomorrow, can we -- “ Unfortunately, Kuroo starts talking again at the same time. “You go first, Tsukki.”

Kei chews his lip, wishing Kuroo had just spoken first. He reminds himself to take charge when he can, be less passive when he can manage. He scrunches his eyes closed. “Do you want to go get dinner tomorrow?”

He swears he can hear the sound of Kuroo’s grin stretching wide across his face on the other end. “Are you asking me out?”

Kei groans. “I can take it back, you know.”

“Oh this is so embarrassing for you.” Kuroo teases. 

“Shut up.”

“But it’s more embarrassing for me because you beat me to it. I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Kei’s face feels like it’s on fire, but he’ll take the small victory. “So I win.”

“This round.” Kuroo’s voice trails off, like he’s plotting. 

They spend the next few minutes discussing places to go and Kei pictures the two of them sitting in each of the restaurants he’s familiar with. He can imagine it, almost, but it’s like each image is viewed through foggy glass. He’s got a handle on the general idea of how things will go, but he has no idea about the specifics of a dinner with Kuroo Tetsurou that isn’t at some family-style, cheap Italian place. 

Eventually they settle on a place Kuroo recommends. After excitedly declaring that a win for himself, Kuroo grows quiet. Again, Kei waits.

“So about tomorrow night.” Kuroo starts, his voice thin. “Would it be okay if we - I mean, I’m fine either way, obviously, but - “ He sighs heavily. “I want to start things off differently and I kind of want a proper first date. I never really had one of those. I want to, like, go out with you and then kiss you at your door and then go back home feeling all, I don’t know, nervous and excited and stuff.” 

Kei smiles then a laugh bubbles out. “You don’t want me to invite you up for a drink?” Kei taunts. 

“I do! I mean, of course I do, but,” Kuroo chuckles, “I just want to try that. Would that be okay with you?”

Kei turns onto his back and looks up at his ceiling. “Yea, that’s okay with me.” 

As they wrap up their conversation, when Kei’s mind again drifts to imaging tomorrow night, some parts are a little more in focus than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooooooooooo - I had about 70% of that Akaashi conversation written months ago. It was originally supposed to happen before Kei and Kuroo starting becoming a "thing," but it never felt right. So, after much revising, it finally had a home in this chapter. I was so ready for it to happen. FINALLY. (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑
> 
> We're nearing the end. That feels so weird. I knew I didn't want this to end with Kuroo and Tsukki getting together because, for me, this story is way more about becoming a whole person again. Yes, Kuroo's a big piece of that, but not the only piece. So, onward we travel towards more personal growth! (Maybe 2 or 3 more chapters? I don't know. This is already so much longer than I planned. WHO KNOWS? NOT ME AT THIS POINT. ｢(ﾟﾍﾟ) And I honestly don't know how I'm gonna feel when it's over.)
> 
> This chapter was brought to you by Lindsey Stirling's entire discography because I saw her in concert last week and she crushed it. 
> 
> You're all so awesome, I can't even handle it. (ノ*゜▽゜*) I need a word that's stronger than "thank you." Your comments, kudos, and messages on tumblr are just the absolute best!


	14. Can’t. Got a date.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday arrives. Kei chats with Tadashi in the morning, learns of his employment status, and goes out on a proper date with Kuroo.

Kei wakes up Friday morning to a whirlwind of texts from Tadashi. Judging by the timestamps, Tadashi basically live-texted a very annoying day at work. He scrolls through the messages and grins, able to hear each in Tadashi’s voice. 

Kei>> hope the day ended better

The reply comes instantly.

Tadashi>> It did! And actually, it wasn’t so bad, today was just one of those I AM SO TIRED OF SPEAKING ENGLISH days  
Tadashi>> like it’s getting easier, of course, but sometimes I want people to understand that I still need to stop and think before I respond. I’m thinking in two languages! 

Kei>> you’re doing way more than me, world traveller.  
Kei>> It’s pretty cool, I guess. 

Tadashi>> haha thanks

Kei>> I’m here if you need to rant in Japanese  
Kei>> you know, so you don’t forget the language

Tadashi>> HA, as if I’d ever. But thanks again. I know.

Kei>> but you should be in bed, it’s late

Tadashi>> I am in bed, thank you very much.  
Tadashi>> and you should be getting ready for work, sir.

Kei>> just finished brushing my teeth, so we’re good  
Kei>> don’t want to go in, though. Anxious.

Tadashi>> yea, I get that. It’s going to be okay, though, no matter how things end up.  
Tadashi>> work always sucks? 

Kei>> late night Tadashi is too real 

Tadashi>> you know it.  
Tadashi>> just gotta make life outside of work awesome

Kei>> working on it

Tadashi>> I know. Yay! Happy for you.

Kei’s grateful for the company as he finishes preparing to go to work. He pauses before he grabs his shoes, doubling back to put the clothes he picked out for tonight in his work bag, just in case he doesn’t have time to come back to his place before he sees Kuroo tonight. He’s not going out in stiff slacks with a tie around his neck. The shirt might work for both though. He does like how he looks in the subtle print. 

He slings his blazer over his shoulder as he walks out, careful to not drop his phone when he starts on his everyday path to the station. They keep chatting, a few minutes passing between texts, before Kei feels the pressure to get the emotions from yesterday’s awkward lunch off his chest reach critical levels. 

Kei>> I talked to Akaashi yesterday. In person.

Tadashi>> whoa.  
Tadashi>> you okay?

Kei>> weirdly, yes?  
Kei>> it was awkward and shitty, but I didn’t walk away from it feeling like I thought I would  
Kei>> guess four years makes a difference? 

Tadashi>> time helps. 

Kei>> just spawned a lot of thinking last night  
Kei>> I’ll stop you before you start, because yes I know that no one deserves shitty things to happen, including me, but also I thought about my last two breakups after talking to Kuroo on the phone last night  
Kei>> and yea yea, I’m not exactly cold and distant, but also, maybe I am a little? I certainly kept Akaashi at arm’s length.  
Kei>> And I moved in with Touma but it took two years for me to let him meet any of my family members. 

Kei readjusts when someone’s elbow bumps him on the train platform. He sighs and takes the interruption as a chance to gather his thoughts.

Kei>> If I’m going to do this thing with Kuroo, I want to do better. Just don’t know how.

Tadashi>> you already are doing better! We never had this conversation before! 

Fondness fills up his heart as they keep talking. Tadashi keeps a lid on his normal inspirational one liners until the end. Kei’s grateful for the chance to just type out everything he’s been thinking and have someone listen. He’s aware of the ways he’s been hurt in the past and is finally starting to recognize that he didn’t make them happen by being Kei. They just happened because life’s messy and people are human. Things can just suck without directly being his fault. 

But last night after he and Kuroo said goodnight, he stared up at his ceiling thinking not about fault, but about vulnerability. If he had one regret from both his time with Akaashi and his nearly three years with Touma, it’s that he’d always kept a sturdy wall around things he’d never share with anyone other than Tadashi. 

Back then he had a sense that there was a probable expiration date on the thing with Akaashi, but he was sure Touma was going to last. They’d checked all the boxes. 

The two of them got along great. Touma liked his dry sense of humor and didn’t force him too much outside of his comfort zone. Kei liked Touma’s nerdy side and how he would look for little ways to brighten Kei’s days. They’d shared friends and interests. Touma had been there for him during stressful times, first as a friend and then as more than that. He’d done the same for Touma over the years. 

They wouldn’t have stayed together that long if everything had been wrong.

But something had turned wrong at some point, beneath the surface. Especially that last year. 

Maybe it was moving in together that did it. Kei liked to think they were both a little excited before it happened, but he knows that, for him, it simply felt like the next correct step. Been together for a long time? Graduating soon? Move in together. 

Once there was no longer physical distance between their homes, Kei felt some of his walls grow a little firmer in their foundations. Having Touma in his space all the time started to feel like an invasion, but all the positive things, the things he loved about the other man were still there, so he ignored the feeling. He swore up and down that he would get used to it, but he never did. 

Touma grew more distant, too. Kei watched it happen and told himself that it was a phase and that they’d have time to fix it. Once Kei got a handle on his new job. Once Kei dealt with Tadashi moving. Then he’d have time.

Only there hadn’t been time to fix it later. 

So while Kei’s inner Tadashi-voice always reminded him that it wasn’t his fault that these things happened, he also knew he wasn’t the easiest person to be with. The closer people got, the more Kei pushed back. He knew this about himself. It was safe and comfortable to have these boundaries, but lonely. 

Then there was Kuroo. Boundaries be damned because he kept pushing them back and Kei forgot to put his foot down or fade away. He’d told Kuroo that they couldn’t be anything more than their physical arrangement, and then one day he’d woken up in Kuroo’s bed after a night of toe curling orgasms and making fun of bad shows together until they fell asleep and wondered how the hell any of that had happened. 

Tadashi>> Take it slow. Little steps along the journey and all, right? Enjoy tonight!

Kei>> Will do. Now go to bed. It’s nearly midnight there. 

Tadashi>> wait, wait, wait, before you go  
Tadashi>> potential good news on my end, too -- I’m planning a visit! During the fall! 

Kei>> Why did you wait until now to mention that?

Tadashi>> I don’t know! Forgot! Ooh, but I am excited. Working it out with family now, then I’ll let you know what days I’m thinking about. Have to wait until I build up enough time off, you know, but I’m looking forward to it.

Kei>> I am, too. 

 

***

 

Kei makes it through the workday unscathed, still employed. He ends up leaving a little later than most because he spent a good chunk of the morning outside the building with two of his after-work beer friends who had been let go. It was strange. The group had talked and said a round of “see you later,” knowing that two of them were going to home to figure out, well, everything, and the rest were going back upstairs to catch up on work. 

Around six, as Kei is leaving the office, he gets a text saying the group is going out to send the other two off in style. 

A smirk creeps across Kei’s face as he types his reply.

Kei>> Can’t. Got a date.

He reads the replies with a smug look on his face the whole way to the station. He can practically hear their howling laughter as the taunts roll in. That is, until one of them remarks that due to his mysterious, aloof nature, that he must be getting the most action out of any of them. 

They’re probably not wrong on that account, but for reasons different than they’d expect. 

Back at his place, Kei lays out the clothes he shoved in his bag earlier, trying to smooth out some of the wrinkles. He’s grateful that he got to come back home first. It’s all off. Too formal, or something. Anything is a far cry from the shorts and a t-shirt or jeans and a hoodie that he’s worn to see Kuroo over the past few months, but he doesn’t want to overdo it. And it’s still summer in Tokyo, after all. He needs to not die in whatever he wears.

Too much to consider. 

He leaves on his button down shirt from work, rolls up the sleeves, and puts on a pair of jeans. Scowling in the mirror, he swaps out the shirt for a printed t-shirt.

Making sure to carefully re-hang each rejected shirt, he changes a few more times before he eventually settles on a short-sleeved button down, only slightly different than his original work shirt. In the bathroom mirror, he undoes the top button only to quickly button it closed again. 

Kei settles in on his couch with a book, ready to pass the forty-five minutes or so until it’s officially not too early to catch the train to meet Kuroo at the restaurant he picked out. Tired from the week, this emotionally exhausting week, he starts to let himself doze, leaving the book open on his chest.

Eyes closed and breath steadily growing deeper, he rests until he jumps at a knock at the door.

“Tsukishima-san,” a familiar voice sings loudly on the other side. 

Kei swings open his front door. “I thought we were meeting at the restaurant.” He steadies the annoyed look on his face even as he takes in the surprisingly put together version of Kuroo in front of him. 

It reminds Kei of when he attended Kuroo’s art share months ago. His hair’s a little more styled than it usually is. Messy, but with purpose. Kuroo’s traded out his baggy sweats for an outfit that reminds Kei that the loudmouthed, immaturely genuine idiot with big, strong arms he used to make out with has, in fact, grown up into a loudmouthed, thoughtfully genuine idiot with big, strong arms that he does way more than make out with these days.

He can’t help but notice that not one, but two of Kuroo’s top buttons on his red shirt are undone. How simple it would be to drag him inside and make quick work of the rest of them, then -- not tonight. 

“Good evening to you, too.” Kuroo replies. “I changed my mind.”

“What if I hadn’t been ready yet?”

“I knew you would be. You’ve probably been ready for,” Kuroo makes a big show of looking at the time on his phone, “about an hour now, I’m guessing.”

Kei raises an eyebrow. 

Kuroo cackles, obviously pleased by his ability to read the situation. “I knew it!” He clears his throat and holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

Kei rolls his eyes as a smile slips from the corner of his mouth. 

 

***

 

As soon as Kei walks into the little Thai place Kuroo picked, his ability to keep the easy conversation going stops dead because it feels so very much like a date. The lights are dim and each table is illuminated by a soft overhead light and a small candle at the center. 

They sit down and Kuroo fills Kei in on his week and his more interesting clients. As the moments pass, he keeps leaning forward. Kei finds himself watching Kuroo’s mouth, his eyes, his hands as he listens.

When he catches himself, he glances around the restaurant, very aware that most tables are filled with couples. Kei shifts in his chair, caught between being present in the objectively very nice moment and ruining it by thinking about the level of sincerity a date requires him to show in public. 

When their food arrives, there’s little flowers on each plate. Kuroo picks up his and tucks it behind one ear. Kei tries to think of some smart remark, but the feeling fades and he asks Kuroo about what his friends have been up to. 

The way Kuroo perks up when he talks about his friends is endearing. He goes on and on about Kenma and then he gives Kei little details about his art friends so he’ll remember who’s who when he sees them all tomorrow night at the next art event. 

Kuroo asks him about Tadashi, his other friends, then about his family, how they’re doing. It’s easy to talk about his best friend and the other first years, but the rest is tougher. He’s comfortable with big question marks surrounding the rest of his life in most people’s minds.

This time, Kei can’t brush off the question like he’s used to doing. He doesn’t want to. 

“They’re fine.” He ventures, encouraged by the way Kuroo stops eating when he listens, his attention focused on Kei. “Akiteru still lives in Miyagi, but he’s not near my parents. He moved away for a girl, got a good job. That relationship is long over, but he still likes what he’s doing, so there’s that.” 

Kuroo laughs. “Glad he’s doing well. It’s been years since I’ve seen him, hasn’t it? Not since you all went to Nationals in your second year.” He pauses, a smile forming from the memory. “It was so fun cheering for you. Kenma was offended that I could possibly cheer for more than one team.” He grins. “And your parents, what are they like?”

“Normal?” Kei shrugs. “I don’t know. My dad’s getting closer to retiring from a life of meetings and my mom still stays at home. It’s entirely too mundane to be worth sharing.”

“No, I like it. It’s nice. I can picture little Kei-kun’s sweet, domestic life. Where did you get all the salt from, then?”

“I was born salty.” 

Kuroo snorts. “I’m going to need proof of that, some baby picture with you frowning.”

“Good luck finding any proof of me being a child.”

“I have my ways.” Kuroo sits back against his chair. “I bet I could text Freckles one day and he’d send me something from your deep, dark adorable past.”

Kei’s grin drops. That’s entirely a possibility. Tadashi would relish the chance. Kei changes the subject. “And you? What’s your family like?” 

He can’t believe he has no idea about Kuroo’s family. He’d never realized there were so many gaps in what he knew about the other man. Kuroo talks constantly, but like him, Kuroo must keep certain things closer to his chest. 

It’s impossible to miss the way Kuroo smiles warmly at the question. He grabs his phone from his pocket and scrolls for a few moments before turning the screen to face Kei. “These are my half-sisters, Himari and Miyu. Himari’s the older one.”

Kei looks at the two girls. The one who must be Himari, judging by their heights, doesn’t look much like Kuroo, but the younger one has hints of his features. 

“Himari has one year of high school left and Miyu just finished junior high this past March.” He flips his phone back to himself, swipes a few times, then turns it back around to show Kei what must be a picture from Miyu’s junior high graduation. 

“I don’t get to see them as often as I’d like to.” Kuroo puts his phone away. “They live down in Fukuoka, where my dad moved after my parents separated when I was in elementary school.” 

Kei’s envious of the way Kuroo can just share these parts of life, until he picks up on the subtle ways Kuroo stiffens in his chair, his posture growing rigid, like he’s waiting. 

He weighs his potential replies and settles on the one that digs up the least amount of potentially negative feelings. “When’s the last time you visited?”

“Back in February I took a few days off to see them all. I go down probably three or four times a year. Around New Year’s I’m there for at least a week. That’s the best.”

“Your younger sister, Miyu, she looks a little like you.”

Kuroo beams at the comment. “Don’t tell her that. She’d be mortified.”

“With good reason. She must have gotten the good parts of your face, while you just have,” Kei lazily makes a circle with one hand, “all of that. Good and bad.”

“Oh, so I have some good parts of my face? What are they?” Kuroo wiggles his eyebrows.

“Pass.”

“I’ll get you to tell me soon enough.” 

Kei runs his finger along the edge of his glass, giving Kuroo a sideways smile. Kuroo’s probably right about that. “And your mom?”

“She lives in the same place where I grew up. I’m there probably once a week for dinner or something, but that’s somehow not often enough.” Kuroo laughs.

“Sounds familiar. That’s all I hear when I go home.”

Kei tells a short story about the last time he was home and his mom kept fussing over the fact that he somehow looked skinnier and taller. She’d woken him up way too early on a Saturday morning to take him out to buy new pants, shaking her head or clapping enthusiastically whenever she forced him to come out and show her how they fit. 

To him, it feels ridiculous to share. Who would ever want to hear about that? But he tries anyway, trying to do better, be better. He’s rewarded with Kuroo leaning on one arm and giving him a soft smile as he hangs on every little word. 

When the check comes later, Kuroo gets it first, but Kei pulls it away. “I asked you out, remember?”

Kuroo pouts. “Fine. But I get to buy you a drink.” 

“Deal.”

At a small bar down the street, one drink turns into two. Kei can’t remember the last time he talked this much, for this long, with anyone other than Tadashi. Kei hasn’t checked the time in a while, but he knows hours have passed. At this point, he’s more ready to listen than share anymore. He has his limits. And honestly, it’s easy to just let Kuroo talk. He likes listening to his voice. 

Kuroo continues explaining the process of how he made the pieces for tomorrow. Kei already knows some of this, since he stayed late on several Saturday mornings so he could watch Kuroo create before he went back home. But he likes the way Kuroo looks when he talks about his art. His gestures become larger, making the sleeves of his dress shirt ride up, his voice speeds up a little from excitement, he leans in closer and closer.

Kuroo pauses and Kei feels a kiss on the shell of his ear. Smirking but otherwise pretending like nothing happened, Kuroo sits back up and keeps right on talking. 

The hours creep past, Friday very nearly about to become Saturday, and the time arrives for the night to end the way Kuroo requested. Kei feels warm and stupid and he lets it fill him up, shoving away everything else he’d been consumed with that week. 

Outside of his front door, the conversation stops. Kuroo slowly puts his hands on Kei’s hips and moves towards him. 

“Wait.” Kei’s voice comes out barely above a whisper. “I’m not breaking the rules or anything, but,” he grabs his keys and twists around so he can reach the lock, “I do have neighbors, so --” 

Kuroo doesn’t let go, but he waits for Kei to open his front door. Together they back inside, just past the threshold. The door closes automatically behind Kuroo and Kei’s suddenly aware of how quiet and dark it is, but he stays where he is between Kuroo’s arms.

As Kuroo’s hands slide up to cup his face, Kei wraps his arms around Kuroo and lets their foreheads fall together. 

“Thanks for a great night.” Kuroo whispers.

Kei hums in content agreement. 

He steps closer and Kuroo closes the rest of the space between them. One of Kuroo’s thumbs stokes his cheek as they kiss, slow and sweet. Absent is the typical hunger and in its place is the same steady, grounded feeling Kei felt when Kuroo kissed him earlier in the week when he showed up at his place, confused and broken. He holds Kuroo tighter, glad that this time feels different. Better. 

He feels Kuroo smile against his lips as they start to break apart, their noses touching before Kei looks down just a little to meet his gaze. “Do you feel nervous and excited?” Kei asks, remembering what Kuroo said on the phone.

“A little.” He laughs softly. “It’s good. I like it.”

“You dork.”

Kuroo tilts his head to the side. He waits, still holding on to Kei but letting his hands slip back down to his waist. 

Kei clicks his teeth. “Fine. I like it, too.” He grins.

“See you tomorrow.” Kuroo whispers.

Kei nods.

“Good night, Kei.”

“Good night, Tetsurou.”

They share one more slow, quiet moment in his entryway with Kuroo’s arms holding him tightly. When they finally part ways for the night, Kei turns on his light then looks at his door for entirely too long. 

In bed that night, the rest of the week feels like it happened ages ago. It takes him forever to fall asleep, but instead of overthinking all night long, he’s settling in to the sensations he remembers from the evening, trying to recall little details and hold onto them. 

Kei lets himself feel happy and dumb and wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: probably 2 or 3 more chapters  
> Also me: adds extra scenes and watches the planned ones grow longer and longer and...
> 
> Yea, at this point, I dunno how much longer. Maybe at, like, 17? or 18? Fewer than 20. I don't have that much in me, but like, I can't let this go. Not yet, anyway.
> 
> I feel like a broken record at this point, but truly, with all my heart, thank you to those of you who subscribe, bookmark, click kudos, and leave those treasured comments. Putting something you created out into the world is tough to do and you all make it easier and a whole lot more enjoyable. ヽ(´ω｀○)ﾉ.+ﾟ*｡:ﾟ+
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by the highs of attending a Panic! at the Disco concert and listening to a band called ARIZONA (opened for Panic!) with their albums on repeat. (Hayley Kiyoko, with her powerful aura, was there, too, but that isn't chill writing music.)


	15. My lover, Tsukishima.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very nice Saturday. Kei spends time with friends, goes to Kuroo's art share, and invites Kuroo back to his apartment.

“So is it hickey guy?” Eiko gestures with the cards in her hands. Six of Kei’s friends have gathered for Saturday gaming, day drinking beers over deck-building card games with intricate rules. 

Kei sputters into his beer glass. “What?”

“Is it hickey guy? The one making your face look all _not sour_ like that?” Still holding her cards, she points accusingly at him. 

“I mean, I wasn’t going to ask, but she went for it, so --” His friend Takumi trails off and, one-by-one, pairs of expectant eyes look at Kei from around the table. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kei defends. 

Eiko stretches against the back of her chair, spreading her arms wide. She speaks casually, but there’s a gleam in her eyes. “You know, the one who’s been sucking on your neck all these weeks, making you show up here looking like --”

“Yes.” Kei interrupts, terrified of where that sentence was going. He feels his cheeks coloring under all of the attention. Might as well lean into it. “And ‘hickey guy’ is why I’m leaving early tonight.”

“Does ‘hickey guy’ have a name?”

“Yes.” Kei studies his cards, doing very little to hide the smug grin starting to creep across his face.

“You going to tell us?”

“No.”

“Can we meet him?”

“Possibly.”

After a few more rounds of questions that Kei unhelpfully answers, they keep playing, trying to remember when to turn cards sideways and what the hell the different color tokens are supposed to mean. As the day turns into early evening, Kei feels a little more gracious when the questions start to pepper their conversation once again right before he leaves.

“Yes, he’s attractive.”

“No, you can’t see a picture.” 

“I met him in high school. We lost touch. Randomly met up again.”

“No, it’s not a date tonight. Just a thing. Stop looking at me like that.”

“His name is Kuroo.”

 

***

 

Kei’s on his second plastic cup of red wine before he finally catches Kuroo’s attention. 

Truthfully, he wasn’t trying too hard to be noticed. Quite the opposite. Unless he’s standing next to Kuroo, he feels so hopelessly out of place at these ‘artsy’ events. Everyone else seems to know how to put clothes on their body and do things with their hair. 

He texted Kuroo when he arrived but didn’t get a response right away, so he quickly grabbed some food and wine and then stole away to a darker spot on the edge of the action. After the walk through the picturesque lobby of the office building and a ride in a marbled elevator, Kei had prepared himself for the worst. But once he made his way to the rooftop, it was somewhat better.

Unlike last time, the expensive statues of nothing were traded in favor of glass towers of tiny hors d'oeuvres and the stately chandeliers were replaced by delicate, soft-white bulbs strung end-to-end above their heads. 

Truly it isn’t as awkward as last time (as long as he stays away from the sides - who knew he harbored a fear of heights once he got above thirty floors?) and his fondness for the mop top of messy hair quickly walking towards him probably has something to do with that.

“Good evening, Kei.” He tries to say it smoothly, but his smile ruins his tone. 

“Good evening, Tetsurou.” 

He thinks he could get used to their new routine and the crinkled-up-nose smile he gets from Kuroo in return. 

Kuroo leans in quickly to kiss his cheek before asking Kei about his afternoon with friends. Kei’s eyes dart around the rooftop immediately as he answers, seeing who bore witness to the public display of affection. 

Kei gets pulled back into the conversation as he watches Kuroo swipe or blow away a persistent stray hair from his bangs. He tries not to notice the way Kuroo slowly draws in closer as he talks. Kei keeps watching the crowd around them. 

Finally, Kuroo gets too close, like another mortifying moment of PDA is about to occur, and Kei does his best to subtly side-step. 

For a moment, Kuroo tries to read his face, but Kei makes sure not to give much away. There’s just too many people. No one likes to see public displays of affection and he doesn’t like to be part of them. Kuroo should know that. 

The moment passes and Kuroo sees a chance to properly introduce Kei to his friends. 

“So I never did get a good answer. What can I introduce you as to my friends?” He asks as they walk towards the small group hovering around the appetizers. Kei recognizes the woman who wore the dark red suit the last time he saw her. He had liked her. The others he either can’t remember or has never met. He tries to run through the hints Kuroo told him about his friends last night at dinner. 

“Tsukishima.” Kei replies instantly, knowing full well where this conversation is headed. 

“No, that’s what I did last time! I said ‘my friend, Tsukishima.’”

“Fine. Tsukishima-san.” Kei tilts his head innocently, emphasizing the honorific at the end. 

Kuroo snorts. “That’s worse. That’s going backwards.”

Kei feels Kuroo’s hand brush his, a quick lacing together of their fingers before Kuroo starts to let go. Kei remembers the look Kuroo gave him moments ago when he stepped away, and he hooks a pinky finger around Kuroo’s finger at the last second before he also lets go. Kei almost misses the smile he gets in return.

It takes no time at all for Kuroo to strike up a conversation, clapping one man on the back and nodding at the woman. Kei’s about to join in when Kuroo blurts out, gesturing towards him, “--and some of you have already met my lover, Tsukishima.”

Kei coughs and a wicked grin stretches across Kuroo’s face. 

The woman stifles a laugh. “I remember you. I think I called you a fine gentleman or something equally old-fashioned that made me sound elderly. I don’t think I introduced myself, though. Mori. Mori Akemi. Nice to properly meet you, Tsukishima.”

“Tsukishima Kei,” he finds his voice again, “pleasure to meet you, too.”

Tonight she’s in a three-piece affair, head-to-toe forest green with a black vest over a patterned shirt. Her shoes are impossibly high, as well. Kei thinks few people would be able to pull it off besides her. She’s short but stands strong and Kei gets a sense of why Kuroo’s friends with her. 

Of the other two men, Kei briefly met one the last time. One of them is a painter and the other says he dabbles in a little bit of everything. Kuroo says that’s how they became friends, talking about what weird new thing they were going to try next. 

Kei smiles, ready to float outside the conversation like he normally does, but they just don’t allow it. The four of them will get wrapped up in a topic, but then one of Kuroo’s friends will ask him about what he does, about Miyagi, or about what Kuroo was like in high school. They seem genuinely excited to get to know him because, as Mori adds, “he talks about you constantly, you know.”

Kuroo’s friends and acquaintances pop in and out of the conversation while they prepare for the rest of the evening. As it grows later, the pace of everything starts to pick up. Even Kuroo occasionally needs to duck away to prep for the event or use his ultra-charming version of his voice to chat with a potential customer. 

But when he returns to escort Kei around to a sea of acquaintances and friends, Kuroo never misses an opportunity to label Kei in a new way.

“My muse, Tsukishima.”

“My dearest, Tsukishima.”

Kuroo’s beloved, his paramour, his companion. (The last one is somehow worse than “lover.” Kei didn’t think that was possible.)

At first, Kei likened it to one of their usual challenges. Kuroo teases him ruthlessly and Kei either taunts back or ignores him (because that’s how you bother Kuroo the most). It’s fairly fun, until it isn’t. Sometime after being called his “beau,” Kei shoots Kuroo a look and he stops. 

But he stops completely. Kuroo drops out of the conversation, like he’s taking a backseat for a minute. He’s still smiling and nodding along, but Kei feels that strange cocktail of guilt and defensiveness. 

Kei chews the inside of his mouth and drums his fingers on his leg. He studies Kuroo’s expression and looks for signs of him bouncing back. Kei runs through his normal reactions to a situation like this - blame himself for being cold and sourly try to be better or blame the other person for being sensitive and walk away - but neither fit. 

Subtly moving closer to Kuroo, he holds out his hand and gently hooks his pinky around the other man’s. Kuroo doesn’t look over, but he wiggles his finger in return before firmly holding Kei back (as much as a pinky can). 

Kei wants documentation of all the times he tries something and it doesn’t fail so it can be evidence for his horrible brain later. 

 

***

 

When it comes time for the artists to get ready to share so everyone can tear into their tote bags, Kuroo steps away for a second then returns with a small, wrapped object.

“Stand somewhere where I can see you, yea? I’ll be there--” He gestures to the makeshift stage area off to one side of the rooftop under the highest concentration of hanging bulbs. “So anywhere here is good.” Kuroo puts a hand on Kei’s back and pushes him out of the dark spot he’d settled into. 

As Kuroo walks away, Kei holds the small parcel in front of him with both hands. 

It remains there, held like a treasure, while he listens to everyone speak. This time, Kuroo’s closer to the beginning than he was before. Kei tries to listen, but he keeps running his thumb over the black paper wrapped around the gift. 

He knows what it is, he just doesn’t know which one. He’s watched Kuroo carve enough times that he’s seen most of the woodblocks fashioned for this batch of prints, but he hasn’t seen a single finished product. 

When the people around him open the art from the first two artists, he does peer over a few shoulders to look. There’s a hand-painted ceramic bowl from the first woman. It’s a lot of geometric shapes, all in hues of blues and greens. The next artist has small, postcard-sized paintings of flowers where each bloom looks like a firework. It’s not the same without a kind, older woman sharing her pieces with him like last time. 

And then Kuroo’s announced. He takes his place in the light and Kei wills everyone else to stop talking, stop whispering. He stares straight ahead, holding the gift gently but a little tighter against his chest. 

“Thank you all for having me here tonight. My name is Kuroo Tetsurou and this is my second time presenting this year. It’s an honor to share a piece of myself with you all once, let alone to be invited to do the same again. I’m glad I’m doing something right.” A slight chuckle works its way around the room.

“Last time I was here I had a lot of pieces inspired by childhood memories. Most of my woodblocks centered around one shrine near my childhood home and the different things I remembered happening there. After creating those, honestly, I felt stuck. I thought that to create something new I had to stop digging up the past and just push forward to make something better.”

Kei thinks back to the first morning he stayed at Kuroo’s, how he had talked about being stuck in high school. A lump forms in his throat. 

“But no ideas came to me, because, in reality, it’s best is when we mix the old and the new, right? We are a collection of our memories, after all, and some, like the ones you’ll see tonight, connect us together with some common nostalgia. We all have different experiences tied to these images, different feelings, but they elicit something from most of us. I liked that idea of ‘connection’ and really ran with it.”

Already people around him are starting to open their packages and Kei tries hard not to look, not wanting to ruin the surprise. 

“That’s all a lot of rambling to say that summer is wonderful, so are festivals. Once upon a time we were all little kids begging for a candy apple or high schoolers wanting to impress someone we liked by doing really well in the shooting range. Memories, yea? Oh, and don’t forget to compare to see what’s different about each of yours! I always hand paint something special in each!” 

Carefully, Kei slips his finger under the tape so he can open the folded paper. Once unwrapped, he’s looking at the back of a wooden frame. Kuroo’s initials are written in marker along the edge. He holds his breath and turns it over. 

It’s simple. Against a soft blue background, several goldfish wait in a tank to be scooped up by some excited child. They’re all the normal orange and black, with fine little lines on their fins and excruciatingly fine lines marking their scales, except for two larger ones that stand out. 

At the foreground are two goldfish more intricately detailed than the others. Their size makes room for them to be striped and inked along their fins and near their eyes, little details the other goldfish don’t have. Kei doesn’t know how the other prints have been made unique, but on his one goldfish is mostly black while the other is streaked with a golden yellow. 

It’s a long time before he can finally talk to Kuroo again. He remembers how, last time, Kuroo said that after the reveal is where the artists work the room and really try to make their money. Kei watches him wear a winning smile and tell the worst jokes in just the right way to disarm his company with his awkward charm. 

Mori, looking tired and removing her green jacket, slumps beside Kei, leaning against the same wall. “No more people.” She whines. 

Caught off-guard by the sudden interaction, Kei snorts, but doesn’t turn to face her. 

“I think Kuroo-kun could talk for a hundred years and never run out of things to say.”

Kei nods. “Probably.”

“Not you, though. You seem like a ‘listener.’”

Kei’s never been described that way, but as soon as she says it, it fits. A little part of his heart scoops up the word to save it for later when he calls himself “distant” or “standoffish.” He’s an observer. A listener. “What makes you say that?” He asks, turning to look at her. 

Down at her. Quite far down. Even in those heels, she’s small. Like Kuroo, the way she carries herself makes her seem so much larger. 

Mori raises an eyebrow. She puts a finger to her chin and hums, like she’s deep in thought. “I’ve got it. It’s the, um, everything about you.” 

Her laugh rings through the air between them and Kei cracks a smile. 

“That easy to read?”

“That and your man over there really does like to talk about you.”

Kei feels heat in his cheeks. 

“It was always ‘Tsukishima said--’ or ‘Yesterday Tsukki and I-’ and he makes the most disgustingly precious face, too.” She pauses, glancing at the art piece in his hands. “You’re good for him. And I can overstep my bounds and say that because I’m about ten years older than the rest of you. I can dump my wisdom wherever I want.” 

As they small talk, Kei keeps hearing ‘you’re good for him’ on repeat in his head. It gets louder when Kuroo practically skips over to him, riding the high of human interactions. Mori bows out of the conversation, squeezing Kei on his arm before she goes, and it’s clear by his face how much it means to Kuroo that Kei was over here willingly talking to one of his friends. 

Kei holds up the frame he’d been gingerly holding the whole evening, feeling his face grow warmer. “Did you make this for me this week?” Something so thoughtful, Kei assumes, must have been made after they finally talked. 

Kuroo shakes his head. “Yours was one of the first ones I made.”

“So that means--” Kei trails off, connecting the dots.

Kuroo runs his fingers through his hair. “Yea, I had this whole big speech planned. I was going to give you that, go do my whole spiel, then offer to go on another walk around the building. Only this time, instead of shoving my tongue down your throat against a brick wall, I was going to spill out all of my feelings for you. It was a beautiful, eloquent, perfect speech - trust me. But then this week happened.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I got to tell you how much I care a couple of days sooner.” Kuroo grins. 

The level of sincerity makes Kei stifle a grimace, even though the words are wonderful to hear. Kuroo catches it and laughs. 

“So,” Kuroo starts, dragging out the word, “since plans change, often for the better, can I show you how much I care now?” He dramatically wiggles his eyebrows. “Back at my place?”

“I thought you wanted to take things slow, give yourself time to feel all ‘nervous and excited.’” Kei shoots him a look. 

“Yea, I don’t want the rules anymore.” Kuroo steps closer, walling Kei off from the rest of the crowd, and maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the carefully painted goldfish in his hands, maybe it’s feeling Kuroo’s breath against his neck, but Kei all but forgets there’s anyone else there. 

“You made them.” Kei replies, his voice low. 

“Tried it. Liked it. Very good. Done now. That okay with you?”

Kei’s reply is simple. “My place is closer.”

 

***

 

Kuroo runs his fingers up and down Kei’s thigh when they sit together on the train. The ride to his place is short, and the later hour means there are fewer passengers, but he still keeps pushing Kuroo’s hand away and glancing around to see if anyone’s looking. Like clockwork, though, the fingers keep returning, sprinkled with Kuroo gracelessly leaning over to whisper filthy things in his ear. 

Kei purses his lips and stares at Kuroo, trying his best to look authoritative even as he feels the color rising in his cheeks. All he gets in return is a devilish grin. Looking smug, Kuroo unlocks his phone and starts typing. 

Thumbing the edge of the re-wrapped framed print, Kei turns towards the window and feels a smile form at the edge of his lips. 

A few moments later, Kei’s phone vibrates. He glances at Kuroo trying to hide a scheming smirk as he pretends to be preoccupied with something on his screen. Kei clicks his tongue and sets his phone, face down, on his lap. He can play the game, too. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Kei sees Kuroo’s smile drop. Kei wears a smug grin.

Kei’s phone vibrates again.

And again.

Kuroo taps his foot impatiently on the floor train. Kei has a hard time keeping a straight face. 

Leaning into Kei’s space, Kuroo whispers, “Read it.”

Gazing straight ahead, Kei doesn’t respond.

“Read it, or else I’ll have no choice but to announce very loudly to the whole car what I wrote.”

Kei jumps a little and turns to face him, their noses just a few inches apart. He pushes at the other man’s shoulder and Kuroo snickers. 

Resigned, Kei reads the messages and fails to keep his eyes from widening and his cheeks from growing warmer. 

Kuroo>> I want to leave wet, hot kisses up and down every inch of your body  
Kuroo>> I want to work you open, lick into you until you’re warm and relaxed  
Kuroo>> and then take my sweet damn time

Biting the corner of his lip, Kuroo stares at him. Kei clears his throat. He looks out the train window and tries to see past their reflections. 

When he types his response, with Kuroo watching his screen eagerly, it’s short and to the point.

Kei>> sounds great except for the slow part

Beside him, Kuroo snorts, already hastily typing his reply. 

Kuroo>> how else can I appreciate how gorgeous you are?

Kei scoffs, but the deed is done and Kei inwardly concedes. Between the gift, the compliment, and the series of surprisingly vulgar texts that follow, Kei knows Kuroo’s going to get whatever he wants tonight, even if it’s achingly slow.

 

***

 

“Faster.” Kuroo whines. His body is pressed against Kei’s back and his hands are starting to dig inside his sides, slowly slipping farther down.

Kei half-heartedly tries to twist out of it. “This would go faster if you’d stop clinging to me. Plus, wasn’t it you demanding something long and slow tonight?”

“Oh that’s still happening.”

Judging by what Kei can feel behind him, he’s not so sure. 

They barely make it a few minutes in the shower before those plans are forgotten. Having Kuroo warm and close and _his_ makes Kei hungry to forget the rougher parts of the week and lose himself in a flood of feeling. He moans against Kuroo’s mouth at every touch, everything seeming to be just a little bit _more_ than usual. 

Kuroo responds eagerly. Once their kisses grow sloppier and more impatient, he hoists Kei up by his legs and pounds up into him as Kei is pressed into the tiles in his shower. Kei tries to push back, support himself in some way, but they’re both too wet and he gives up, holding on to Kuroo’s shoulders until his head drops uselessly on the other man’s shoulder once they’re both spent. 

Toweled-off and relaxed in Kei’s bedroom, a very naked Kuroo flops down onto his bed. “You moved your bed.”

Kei curls up beside him, resting his head on top of Kuroo’s bicep, the one with the tattoo of the subatomic particles. Aside from the tree on Kuroo’s chest, that’s his other favorite. “Felt like a change.”

Kuroo hums and rolls onto his side, reaching over to run lazy fingers through the short ends of hair on the back of Kei’s head. 

“My legs are tired.” Kuroo whispers roughly. 

Kei just hums in response, focusing on the feeling of Kuroo’s fingers. He starts to give in to the warm, heavy feeling beginning to move through his body. 

“You sleepy?” Kuroo asks.

“Well, I’m in my bed and it’s dark out so --” 

Kuroo laughs softly. “It’s 11pm. On a Saturday, you grandpa.” He tucks himself closer to Kei and rests his chin along the top of Kei’s head. 

For a moment, Kei closes his eyes and listens to Kuroo breathing beside him.

Kei’s startled when Kuroo starts to pull his arm out from under him. Eyes still closed, he half-heartedly protests. 

He feels the bed dip on either side of him and when he opens his eyes, he’s not surprised to find Kuroo boxing him in with his arms and legs wearing only a satisfied grin. 

“I still have some promises to keep tonight.” He pauses, his face looking like a thought caught him by surprise. “Though, we didn’t decide, like, you know, who gets to do what with janken, so to be fair do you want to --”

Kei cuts him off by shifting and wrapping his long legs around Kuroo’s torso. He raises an eyebrow and waits.

Kuroo licks his lips but doesn’t move. “So…”

“I think this is a pretty clear indication of what I want.”

All Kuroo says is reply is, “good.” 

Kei expects things to escalate as quickly as it did in the shower, like it so often does with Kuroo. Even if things do start slow, the pace always quickens when Kuroo reaches the tipping point of his self-control. Kei waits for that, the moment when Kuroo’s eyes grow darker, his groans deeper. Kei likes to help push him over the edge. 

But tonight the tipping point seems nowhere in sight. Kuroo’s already thoroughly kissed his neck, worked his way down and then back up one arm. On Kei’s chest, he licks hot stripes between kisses. When he reaches Kei’s other arm, Kei squirms below him. “What are you doing?”

“What I said I’d do.” Kuroo replies against his skin.

“Stop. It’s weird.”

Kuroo picks up his head, his gaze soft. “Why?”

Kei frowns. “I don’t know. Just embarrassing.”

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop, but,” he sits up a little, “I can’t think of a better way to appreciate all of you.” 

Chewing on his lip, Kei can’t look away from Kuroo’s eyes. There’s something behind them that makes the tightness in his chest start to fade. When he speaks his voice is quiet. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Kuroo smiles. “Maybe this’ll help.” He reaches for the bedside lamp and shuts it off.

When Kuroo returns to his apparently important work, Kei closes his eyes even though the room is already dark. He tries to focus on each kiss. It gets easier as time passes and by the time Kuroo has made his way to his lower abdomen, Kei is panting softly, his arms resting gently on the pillow above his head. 

Kuroo makes his way lower and lower. Kei feels himself twitch in anticipation, but Kuroo lifts one of his legs and starts showering his thigh with attention. He forgets the temporary frustration when Kuroo begins to mutter about how much he loves his legs. Even more is forgiven when Kei feels a warm hand wrap gently around his cock, coaxing him to be harder, breathe rougher. 

The pace stays slow and steady, but Kei can hear the change in Kuroo’s breathing, can feel it on his skin. 

After working his way down and back up Kei’s other leg, Kuroo sits back and lets go of Kei. He whines at the lack of contact. 

Kuroo bends down to whisper, “turn over.” 

Kei does what he asks, half-concerned Kuroo’s about to begin the whole process over again. It was enjoyable, especially once the lights were off, but thoughts are starting to creep back into his mind now that the spell is broken. 

That is until Kuroo pulls him up by his waist so Kei’s resting on his knees, his chest and arms still flat against the bed. It’s then he remembers Kuroo’s other wish for the night. He swallows hard. “Kur--”

Kei chokes on the rest of his name, screwing his eyes shut as Kuroo spreads his legs wider and licks the first hot circle around his entrance. Time has passed since the shower, but he’s still more open and stimulated than he would be normally. 

Kuroo grips into his ass while playing around the edges, teasing but never giving in. Kei knots his hands into his sheets. His mouth falls open with a groan when Kuroo finally dips inside before rolling back out. 

Kei can’t help his hips from pushing back, but Kuroo keeps him firmly in place. When he finally pushes in, it’s gentle, still so slow. Kuroo moans and the vibrations make Kei shiver. His voice is thick with need. “More, I need --”

Kuroo presses in harder, the hands on his ass squeezing more until one hand drops away. Kei feels Kuroo shift behind him, feels the telltale movement in the bed that tells him Kuroo had to take some of the edge off for himself. Again the vibrations of his groans ride Kuroo’s tongue all the way to Kei. 

Dazed, Kei pulls one of his hands down to wrap around himself. He pumps slowly, not wanting to ruin anything, but needing something now to quell the throbbing he feels. Kei has no idea how much time passes as he relaxes into his sheets. 

When Kuroo pulls away, his voice is rough. “Kei, where do you keep --”

“Drawer. By lamp.” Kei pants. 

The bed dips as Kuroo crawls around him to reach in the drawer. He hears Kuroo rustling around until there’s the sound of a cap popping. 

By now, Kei’s hand has returned to the bed and he’s no longer gripping the sheets. A deep sigh leaves his throat when he feels the first of Kuroo’s fingers slip in. It doesn’t take long until it’s followed by a second, then a third, both of their breathing growing more choked and needy but Kuroo does as he said. He takes his time. 

When he finally pulls away, Kei feels a pull on his shoulder. Taking the hint, Kei rolls over onto his back, feeling heated and loose all over. 

Kuroo falls forward onto his hands, bending down to shower Kei with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Kei wraps his hands around the back of Kuroo’s neck and pulls him in, lowering the other man until they’re flush together, their panting giving way to soft moans as both of them refuse to break away from the slow, intense kisses. 

“Tetsu.” He moans. The name leaves Kei’s lips as easy as breathing.

Kuroo kisses him harder. “Kei,” he hums in between kisses, over and over like a prayer. 

Kei thrusts up from the mattress, ready for more, encouraged by the way his name sounds when it’s leaving Kuroo’s mouth in heated whispers. 

Kuroo kisses his way down Kei’s neck, then he rocks back, running his hands down Kei’s sides to his legs like he’s enjoying the journey until he lets go and Kei hears him tear into a condom wrapper. 

Ready, Kuroo lifts Kei off the bed enough to line up just outside of where Kei desperately needs him to be. Kuroo runs his hands up and down Kei’s legs, guiding them until they’re hooked around his waist. 

He pushes into Kei’s tight heat tantalizingly slowly, just like the rest of the night. Kei swears he can feel every slick inch along the way until Kuroo’s body is flush against his ass. Kei gasps in relief. 

Kuroo bends down to kiss him again, his hands roaming Kei’s body. He doesn’t move yet and Kei feels so full. Kei cards his fingers through Kuroo’s hair, lost in the moment, until he realizes his body is rocking against Kuroo, seeking more. 

Letting out a ragged sigh, Kuroo responds by meeting Kei’s slow thrusts with his own. Unhurried and steady, Kuroo pulls back only a little each time he thrusts, staying deep inside. The kisses continue until neither of them can control their breathing enough. Kei’s bedroom is filled with their moans and the slick sound from where they’re connected. 

Kuroo gradually quickens the pace and Kei savors the growl that leaves his lips when he finally tips over the edge. Kei lifts his hips as best as he can to match the deepening thrusts, melting as he feels the slap of Kuroo’s hips against him. 

Faster and faster, Kuroo drives into him until Kuroo chokes back a sob, coming hard. As he comes, he reaches down to stroke Kei, still thrusting through his own release, until they’re both sweaty and spent, glued together on Kei’s bed. 

They remain that way for some time, waiting for their breath to steady. Kei knows that eventually they’ll need to move, clean up, make the bed good enough to sleep in once more. But as Kuroo peppers him with short, sweet kisses along his jaw, he sighs contentedly, perfectly fine with feeling stuck together with the man on top of him for a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why hello there! 
> 
> This chapter took longer than I anticipated. I must've rewritten the art share scenes about 400 times a piece, but I am enjoying dwelling on the new relationship bubble with these two. (｡♥‿♥｡)
> 
> You are all super awesome. May rainbows and sunbeams of thank yous rain down upon you this fine day!


	16. Our mess. That we made together.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of days and nights together. Kei and Kuroo talk, cook, see friends, and then really talk.

Sunday morning Kei wakes up at the end of a dream, startled and inhaling sharply but unable to remember anything. He burrows his face back into his pillow but hears Kuroo stirring on the other side of the bed. Slowly, he rolls over to see Kuroo looking at him, gaze soft. 

“Morning.” Kei says gruffly, voice thick with sleep.

“Morning, Kei.” Kuroo smiles.

“You been up long?”

Kuroo shakes his head against the pillow he has scrunched up underneath his head. 

Kei raises an eyebrow. “Were you watching me sleep?”

Kuroo’s grin stretches and Kei tries to swat at him, but his arm is still too heavy from just waking up and the move becomes a hand landing gracelessly on Kuroo’s side. 

Kuroo takes it as an invitation and slides closer, wrapping an arm around Kei. “Just happy, is all.”

Feeling the pull of sleep grabbing onto him again, Kei’s eyes flutter closed. They stay closed even when he feels Kuroo pressing kisses into his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. Kuroo’s hands slide up his back and he sighs as kisses run up his jaw, along his ear, down his neck. 

Kuroo’s breath feels hot on his skin and Kei can’t pretend to not feel the growing heat pressing into his thigh. Or pretend he’s also not somehow already similarly affected. He’d take the time to be bothered by the effect Kuroo has on him were it not just so _good_.

Especially when they start fooling around and Kuroo hooks his legs around Kei’s waist and uses one of Kei’s lines from the night before right back at him.

“I think this is, as you said, a pretty clear indication of what I want.” Kuroo licks his bottom lip and tilts his chin, like it’s a challenge. 

And the switch is flipped.

It’s another point in the long list of things that are different with Kuroo than with Touma. Kuroo unlocks something inside him. Most nights Kuroo takes him apart until he forgets how to speak, let alone the long list of things that stressed him out all day. And it’s, truthfully, his preferred way of losing his mind. The attention. The release of control. The tenderness after. 

But he doesn’t mind this way either. He likes how Kuroo tries to maintain composure for as long as possible, like he’s putting on a show. With Kei driving into him, he’ll purposefully arch his back more than he needs to or run his hands through his hair in a way that he thinks looks sexy (Kei hates that it actually does look really good), until he forgets the act and Kei can take in the sight of Kuroo on the bed below him, twitching, panting, and seeking release with Kei’s name on his lips. 

 

***

 

Once they decide to venture out of bed, Kei lets Kuroo take the bathroom first. He gives him some clothes to borrow and tells him he can use whatever’s in there, apologizing for how sparse the options are. 

Kei pulls on some soft shorts and an old t-shirt and shuffles his way into his living room. There on an end table, hastily but carefully placed the night before, is the wrapped art in its frame. He picks it up and slips off the paper, studying the little details again like it’s his first time seeing it. 

When he looks back up, it’s like he can see his apartment through someone else’s eyes - like Kuroo’s comments about how clean it was those weeks ago now make a little more sense. It’s not just clean. It’s… sterile. His walls are mostly bare, spare a calendar hung up in the kitchen. There are a few small plants, all hearty, little succulents, along his windowsill. A few pictures of the other first years or his college friends, all in frames, dot bookshelves and surfaces throughout.

This piece needs to go in the right place.

Wherever that is. 

He unfolds the easel-back and sets it down on the end table next to his couch. 

Kei purses his lips. That won’t work. From where he always sits, it’ll be behind him most of the time. He won’t ever see it. 

He turns it around so it’s facing the door. He’d be able to see it when he walks in, but then there’s just the back of a frame facing him the rest of the time. 

Picking it up again and again, Kei tries different places throughout his apartment. On a bookshelf next to some photos. On the small table by his door. In the kitchen. By his bed. He’s back in the living room when Kuroo walks out loudly announcing his presence before catching sight of the piece in Kei’s hands. 

“You use sensitive toothpaste? You adorable, little, old -- what’cha doing?” 

Kei thins his lips into a straight line.

Kuroo’s grin reaches both ears. 

“Just looking for a place to put this.” Kei says dismissively, knowing the pink in his cheeks is already betraying him. 

Saying nothing, Kuroo walks over and slides his arms around Kei, under his arms, pressing close along Kei’s back. He rests his head heavily on Kei’s shoulder. 

Kuroo smells like mint and Kei’s face wash all mixed together with whatever Kuroo normally smells like, that scent of his that makes Kei feel calm and keyed up at the same time. 

“You like it?” Kuroo asks against his skin. 

Kei clicks his tongue in mock annoyance. Kuroo already knows his answer, but he’s feeling warm and loose and there’s coffee being made a few steps away filling the air with more of his favorite things. “I do.” Kei twists his neck to reach the tip of Kuroo’s nose with a kiss. 

The arms around Kei’s torso tighten a little more. “So where’s it going to go?”

“If I knew that I wouldn’t have been wandering around while you were in the bathroom --”

“Using your old man toothpaste.” Kuroo interrupts. 

“Using my dentist recommended toothpaste.”

Eyes glancing over his apartment yet again, Kei bites his bottom lip in thought. “If it’s out here, I’ll see it more, so will other people.” He thinks aloud, Kuroo humming contentedly along with him. “And if it’s in my bedroom, then only I will see it.”

“And me.”

“And you.” Kei echoes fondly. “So, out here, then?” He’s not sure what the right answer is. Probably Kuroo would want something he worked hard on to be out where more people could see it, ask about it. That’s why people make art, right? So it’s seen? 

Kei feels Kuroo’s head shake gently on his shoulder. “I think your room’s better.”

“Why?”

“Put it anywhere you want, but I made it for you.” Kuroo shifts and Kei feels a warm kiss on his neck. “Just you.” Kuroo pulls back the rest of the way, grunting as he stretches his arms up over his head. “Plus that fits you.”

Kei turns around to face him, brows furrowing slightly. “How do you mean?”

“You know, like, you,” Kuroo gestures dramatically as he speaks, “have the outside Kei,” he motions around the living room and kitchen area,” and the inside Kei,” he uses both his hands to point to the bedroom before tapping two fingers to Kei’s chest. His hands finally come to rest on the top of Kei’s hips. “They’re different.”

“Isn’t that what everyone does?” Kei starts to feel a little defensive, but keeps a tight lid on the feeling. He’s had this conversations so many times before. He tells himself Kuroo knows him better than that because he wants that to be true. 

“Well yea, of course everyone does that in some way. You just --” Kuroo’s thumbs traces gentle circles on his hip bones, “have a hard line between the two. And it’s not bad.” He adds quickly with a smile. “Because only a couple of people get to see the other one. It makes it special.” 

They stand there for a moment, Kei processing with a smile at the corner of his lips while Kuroo’s expression makes it clear there’s a thought he has yet to voice. 

“Sorry if I dragged you over that line too much last night.” Kuroo says finally, shifting his hands from Kei’s hips so they wrap around his back. “You don’t seem to be one for public displays of my immense affection for you.”

Kei sighs softly. “It’s wasn’t bad, it’s just--” he pauses, “a lot.”

“I told you I would --” He stops himself short, inhaling deeply before continuing. “I told you that I was going to be a lot sometimes and I wanted to keep pushing that, pushing you, but I can see where you’re coming from. And I like how you are, all of it. Like, all the time, even if I steamroll over it a little sometimes.” A smirk stretches across his face. “Plus that pinky thing was so adorable.”

Kei grimaces. “Don’t talk about it.” He whines.

“It was the best.” Kuroo tilts his head back to laugh. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Thanks for trying to meet me in the middle.”

Kei’s stunned. That’s how Kuroo read the situation. Maybe not at first, but that’s where he landed. 

“And you know, I kind of like it.” Kuroo steps back from the embrace, arms swinging wildly once again to punctuate his thoughts. “Outside Kei keeps everything proper and polite, then we get inside and your inner freak is unleashed.”

“Never say that again.” Kei shoots him a look, but laughs. 

“You save it all up for me.”

“Stop.”

“It builds and builds and then we walk through the door and--”

Kuroo doesn’t have a chance to finish because Kei chooses to shut him up by kissing him until they’re both laughing.

They both freeze when Kuroo’s phone vibrates from the coffee table where he abandoned it last night. Kuroo chooses to ignore it, pulling Kei back in. It stops. Kei hums against Kuroo’s lips. Then it vibrates again. 

Kuroo sighs but smiles as he pulls away. He looks back sheepishly when he sees who’s calling. “Hang on, it’s my mom.” He walks towards the door but doesn’t step outside. 

The moment they start talking, Kei feels like he’s eavesdropping.

“No, I’m at Kei’s.”

He wonders if it’s still technically eavesdropping when he’s purposefully trying to catch every word and not making any effort to hide his intentions. 

Kuroo’s mother knows who he is? Kuroo uses his given name with her?

Kuroo makes a mocking noise. “No! None of that -- ‘Cause it’s daytime. Don’t be gross.” He laughs. 

Kei’s eyes widen.

“It went really well. -- Of course I missed you at this one, but it meant Kei got to come as my visitor, so that was good. -- You can’t come to all of them!”

Even with just half of the conversation, Kei quickly realizes they’re talking about the art show. Kuroo keeps asserting that really, truly, he can’t be the guy that brings his mom to these sorts of things, but Kei can’t focus on much of the conversation after hearing his name dropped so casually. 

“Yea, alright, I will -- I remembered -- see you Tuesday. -- Love you, too.”

Kuroo pockets his phone and spins on his heel back towards the living room. Kei snaps back upright, like he wasn’t just peeking around the corner. 

“Major turn on, right? I’m a big ol’ mama’s boy.” Kuroo winks at him when he walks back in the room. “I can ignore it once, but if she calls a second time, I always pick up.”

“Mmmm,” Kei hums, “So wholesome.” He smirks. 

“Well,” Kuroo, “with any potential for a _mood_ truly ruined - for now - what should we do today?”

After coffee and a lazy morning together that stretches well into the afternoon, Kuroo complains that Kei doesn’t have any food, _real food_ , in his house. They go out for lunch and as they walk back Kuroo entertains the idea of picking up groceries later and cooking for Kei so he knows his boyfriend won’t waste away. But the idea stays just that, an idea tucked away for later, as they lose the day together. 

At some point, Kei remembers to send a message to Tadashi explaining why he’ll miss their regular Sunday video chat. Tadashi responds with several quick-fire responses of increasingly suggestive emoji. 

Kuroo ends up spending the night again, promising that he really doesn’t mind the early morning trip back to his place. They order pizza and watch movies they’ll never remember the plot to because no one was paying any attention. 

 

***

 

On Tuesday, Kuroo texts Kei while he’s at work to wish him a happy anniversary. Kei rolls his eyes so hard it hurts but his grin makes a passing coworker ask if everything’s alright. 

When he gets coffee with Yachi on Wednesday, it’s clear she knows something’s shifted but she doesn’t pry. She does, however, serve him some serious side-eye whenever the conversation falls quiet. 

He’s not sure why he doesn’t tell her. She’d be elated to hear about it. Does he want to keep it safe in the little bubble it’s in? To not invite ruin by jinxing it this soon?

All of the texts, phone calls, and plans for the weekend about perfect enough to keep the waves of self-doubt at bay, but they’re persistent. After saying good night to Kuroo on the phone that night, Kei has trouble falling asleep. His thoughts don’t take on a clear shape, just the vague idea of Kuroo, of them together, and this deeply-rooted question of “how long do you think this one will last?”

He tells his own brain that Kuroo already knows him better than most, shoves a pillow hard over his head, and wills himself to sleep eventually. 

On Thursday, Kuroo brings up seeing Bokuto at his casual volleyball practice and the unwelcome thoughts become a little clearer, like he can almost see how the two of them could end. 

Kei’s about to get ready for bed that night, eager to shut off his brain, when Kuroo texts him to say that work was shit and he’d like to aggressively cuddle. He goes to sleep hoping that he helps Kuroo in some way because he really has to repay all of these heroic acts of insufferable sincerity that he keeps encountering with this man. 

 

***

 

“My friends have labeled me love-dead.” Kuroo’s digging through his cabinets to find the frying pan he wants to use. 

They’d been together since yesterday after work, and this morning Kuroo practically bounded out of bed struck with the notion that Saturday, this particular Saturday, had to be the day he was going to cook for Kei. 

Pausing from unpacking the groceries they’ve just picked up, Kei chuckles. “What does that mean?” 

“They’re mad they have to share me.” He laughs. “Not really, but, you know how it is - I keep choosing to stay in or pass on plans because I have other things I want to do.” Frying pan in hand, Kuroo spins around and exaggerates a wink in Kei’s direction. 

Kei rolls his eyes, a smirk on his lips. “Dork.” 

“Bigger dork. Your game friends missing you?” He asks.

“The group isn’t all that consistent. We go in and out if we have plans.” Kei replies, shrugging and knowing that he has been the most consistent member. He never had other plans. After announcing in their group chat that he wouldn’t be showing up today, he did his best to ignore the string of shock that followed. 

“I bet they miss you.” Kuroo adds softly. “I mean, who else is going to reference the rules over and over again to make sure everyone is playing correctly?” He laughs.

Kei clicks his tongue. “Someone has to do it.” He leans against Kuroo’s kitchen counter, unsure of what he should be doing right now. He feels a little in the way as Kuroo rummages in his pantry and cabinets. 

“Know-it-all.” Kuroo winks. 

“I never got that as an insult. Knowing everything would be a good thing.”

Kuroo stands back up after digging out a set of bowls from a low cabinet. “You don’t know everything. You don’t even know how to cook!” He grins wide. 

“I know how, I just,” Kei squirms, “choose not to. It’s pointless to do it for one person.”

Kuroo pauses, stepping closer. “Aw come on, you don’t ever just want to treat yourself to a good meal?”

Kei grimaces. “Not really. If I want to, I can just go out.”

“Oh, but when you do it at home, it’s just so satisfying! Plus,” he shoots Kei a look, “it gets me ready to impress a good-looking man.” He claps his hands together. “Now I’m going to put you to work. Wash your hands because you’re cutting cabbage first.”

Kuroo walks Kei through his process for making _tonkatsu_. He insists that it’s important to get everything prepped first so that they can just focus on cooking and not making such a huge mess. 

Kei’s surprised by how particular he is. For a man whose hair defies gravity and home looks like an art store exploded, he has strict preferences for how things are laid out, how he has to use different little bowls for every ingredient, how he insists on there being one correct way for getting the pork tenderized just right. 

At first, Kei bristles at being told what to do. He bites back any comments and focuses on trying to use the tips Kuroo taught him. Kuroo never butts in or corrects him. He just smiles anytime Kei catches his eye as they move around one another in the tiny kitchen, creating something together. 

“You want to fry one?” Kuroo asks over the popping oil, noticing how Kei had started edging towards the back wall of his kitchen once he was out of tasks to complete. 

Kei shakes his head, waves his hand dismissively. “I’ll mess it up.”

Kuroo holds up the cooking chopsticks, inviting him to take over. “No you won’t. I’m right here to help.”

 

***

 

As more days pass, responsibilities creep back in, threatening to pop the perfect new boyfriend bubble. But they both still have work to do, bills to pay, and after work engagements that keep them from sneaking over to the other’s place in the evening. 

It’s a return to normalcy and Kei actually appreciates it in some ways. He can carve out more time for himself again, knowing that Kuroo’s going to still be there as a part of his new normal. 

Friends start to creep into the equation, too. Kei tells Yachi about Kuroo one afternoon when they meet up after work. She claps her hands together and gushes over how happy she is for him. She insists on knowing the whole story and Kei has to start at the beginning (well, the second beginning for the two of them) because he forgot that she never knew they were seeing each other again. 

Retelling the story, glossing over the parts he doesn’t want to say out loud, he wants to smack himself over what now feels like wasted months in between that first time he saw Kuroo at his office and now. He knows, though, that the journey was necessary to get to this point, however frustrating it had been at times. And fun. A lot of fun. 

That weekend, after a noticeable amount of fidgeting, Kuroo finally asks Kei if it would be alright if they met up with Kenma for lunch the next day - that he understands that it’s been just them so far on the weekends, that it’s okay if he says no, that it’s no big deal either way, just that he hasn’t seen Kenma much the past few weeks and -- Kei interrupts him to say it’s fine. 

The moment Kuroo sees Kenma waiting outside the ramen shop, he picks him up in a big hug while yelling “Kitty cat!” Kenma just lets it happen, his body hanging loose much like an actual cat getting picked up against its will who has decided they love the offender enough to not scratch their eyes out. 

Kuroo plops down next to Kenma and Kei watches the two of them interact - rather, he watches the way Kuroo lights up and talks and talks and talks and Kenma listens, chiming in with little hums and occasional long stretches of speech like he was processing and saving it all up for those moments. 

Kuroo pulls Kei into the conversation when he can, when the topics circle back to familiar ground. Mostly, though, Kei just watches their dynamic, the secret language of forever friends.

He thinks of Tadashi, now probably done with his dinner and currently debating a night out or an evening in. 

He thinks of the way Kuroo’s face lit up when Kei chose to get to know his art friends better at the last show.

He knows how important Kuroo’s friends are to him.

Kuroo’s friends.

One friend in particular weighs heavily on his mind. 

“So how is the little shrimp?” Kuroo asks, glancing between Kenma and Kei over their now-empty bowls. 

Kei snaps out of his unwelcome train of thought and thinks back to the last few messages in the never-ending group chat. 

“Good, he’s been working with the volleyball and basketball teams at his middle school over the break.” Kei answers. 

“His dog is cute.” Kenma adds quietly, taking out his phone and flipping through a few pictures to show.

Kuroo looks at each one, pausing at one showing the three of them, Hinata, Kageyama, and their dog, in their backyard. “I never would have thought they’d be the first to settle down. Hinata, sure, but Kageyama?”

“Shoyou goes for what he wants.” Kenma put his phone back on his side of the table. 

“He does have a terrifying ability to disarm those around him and pull them in. He’s dangerous like that.” Kei adds, grinning. 

“No arguments there. Looks nice, though, their house. They seem happy.” Kuroo drums on the table after he’s done talking. “Alright, gotta pee and then we can go wherever.” 

Kenma swipes at the game he’s been periodically tapping at while they ate. Kei hears a little ring like coins, but Kenma doesn’t look up or fill the sudden dead air between them. 

Kei replays the last time they saw one another in his head on repeat. He does have Kenma to thank for him getting out of his own head enough to talk to Kuroo again, but he’s never quite let go of the fact that Kenma said Kuroo treats him like he’s fragile.

Especially now that he’s seen it. A part of him knows Kenma’s right. After Kuroo admitted to dancing around telling Kei how he felt, afraid to push him away, Kei sees it when Kuroo looks like he’s holding back a thought or fidgeting before he asks Kei something. 

What is it about him that makes that happen? It’s fine for keeping the rest of the world at bay, but can he not turn it off?

Kenma sighs, turning off his screen and looking up. He doesn’t say anything, just looks Kei dead in the eyes. His mouth opens just a little, then he shuts it again. 

“How’s work?” Kei asks, reaching for anything. 

“Fine.”

“What do you do again?”

“Programming.” Kenma clears his throat. “You can relax, you know. I never didn’t like you.”

Kei bites back an awkward laugh at how that was delivered. He’ll hold out hope for a day when Kenma might actually like him, not just actively tolerate him. “That’s reassuring.”

“Shoyou likes you, so you must be fine.” He rationalizes. “Just don’t -” he pauses, looking back down at the table.

“I know.” Kei interrupts without meaning to. 

“Don’t make him sad.”

 

***

 

Kei’s on his afternoon cup of coffee when Kuroo bursts out of his bedroom. “What are these?” He shouts and Kei spins around on his couch. 

Framed in his doorway is Kuroo wearing the Union Jack boxers Tadashi sent him ages ago. He chokes on the sip of coffee that was in his mouth. Coughing, he asks, “Where did you find those?”

Kuroo has both of his arms on his hips, elbows out, chest bare and puffed out like he’s a superhero. “They were in the back of that drawer you let me borrow things from.”

The fabric is stretched tight around his thighs and, well, everything else. “They’re a little small for you.”

“Why thank you,” Kuroo lowers his voice, “for pointing out how very _large_ I am.”

Kei rolls his eyes but a grin reaches both ears. His phone pings, but his eyes are locked onto the idiot strutting across his floor. 

“How do I look?” Kuroo asks, putting his foot on the coffee table and leaning over so his head is resting on his forearm perched on his knee. 

“Ridiculous.” His phone pings again. 

“Do you want me to take them off?” He purrs, but a laugh spills out at the end.

“Be careful - don’t rip them! They were a gift.”

“Who’s giving my man underwear?”

“Tadashi. As a joke.” He adds quickly. “No one would really wear those.” Kei glances over at his phone after hearing it ping a third time. “Speaking of whom, I think you summoned him.”

Tadashi>> I’m up! Early, too. The birds are singing. They’re proud of me for going to bed at a reasonable hour.  
Tadashi>> I’m free to vid chat if you are  
Tadashi>> unless (*＾∀ﾟ)ъ

Kuroo sits down and leans on Kei’s shoulder. “Don’t you two always talk on Sunday?”

Kei nods. “Haven’t as much lately. Still talk just not -” He trails off. 

“I wouldn’t mind saying ‘hey.’ I haven’t talked to him in forever. But it’s up to you. If you want to talk to him without me hovering, keep it you two, I get it.”

Kei rests his head on top of Kuroo’s. “I don’t mind either way. Could be nice with you here, but,” he pauses, “you’re going to need to change.”

When Kuroo comes back out of his room he’s wearing borrowed sweats and a t-shirt, like he usually does. Tadashi is filling Kei in on his week but Kei’s mind wanders, pondering if Kuroo feels the same when he sees Kei in his clothes. The sense of - what could it be - possession? He’s not sure if that’s what he’d call it, but he likes it. 

Kuroo flops on the couch beside Kei, popping into view on the laptop camera. He waves. 

Tadashi stops mid-sentence and smiles wide. “Kuroo! Oh my goodness. It’s been so long. How are you?” Kei knows Tadashi already knows much of the answer to that, but his friend is never one to miss an opportunity to be polite. 

Kuroo must suspect the same because his answer is short. He mentions work, his current art projects, and ends by saying, “but most of my time lately looks a lot like this.” He motions to the two of them on the couch. 

Tadashi chuckles. “So I’ve gathered. I’m glad.” He looks off in the distance, wistfully. “Oh the things I could tell you, Kuroo. All the really sweet things Kei says about you when you’re not around, but I’m afraid he’d murder me when I come to visit.”

The two share a laugh and Kei’s cheeks grow warm. “I knew this wouldn’t end well for me.”

“How’s Kenma?” Tadashi asks. “He pops up in the group chat from time to time, but he’s not exactly the most talkative person.”

“He’s doing well! His job is easy for him, so he finishes everything he has to do and can devote the rest of his time to gaming. He’s too smart, so no one can say anything.” Kuroo grins. “I still see a lot of the Nekoma guys, actually. Yaku doesn’t live too far and Lev is too fantastically clingy to ever get rid of. Yamamoto moved but we still meet up when he’s in town. Oh, and I still play volleyball with Bokuto and Akaashi pretty regularly.”

In a second, an entire silent conversation spoken through intense stares passes between Tadashi and Kei. 

Tadashi recovers quickly. “That’s fun. Sometimes I really miss being able to see our Karasuno friends as often as I used to.”

“But I’m taking over. This is your chatting time. What do you two normally talk about?”

“You.” Tadashi spits out a laugh.

Kei clicks his tongue. “Tadashi’s boring, married life.”

“Which country has better tea.”

“Hinata’s weird teaching stories.”

“Childhood memories.” Tadashi sings, his freckles scrunching up as his smile stretches farther. 

Kuroo chimes in. “Now those I want to hear.” 

“Wish granted!” Tadashi’s eyes sparkle with mischief. 

Kei can’t imagine what it’s going to be like when these two interact in person. In November. A couple of months from now. He glances at Kuroo hanging on every word of a story Kei’s sure he already heard years ago, how Tadashi and Kei met when Kei stepped in and mocked a pair of bullies until they left. 

Will they still be together then? Like this? Probably, he answers himself. He hopes so. 

 

***

 

Kei knows how important Tadashi is to him. He suspects it's the same for Kenma and Kuroo. He knows how much he enjoys his time with his engineering friends, connecting it to how Kuroo must feel about his art friends. And somewhere in the middle, closer to Tadashi, are the friends he played volleyball with for three years, the team who helped him grow and shaped a lot of who he is now. 

For Kuroo that’s Nekoma. And Bokuto and Akaashi. 

Kei’s been quiet since dinner. From the sideways glances Kuroo’s giving him when he thinks Kei’s not paying attention, he can tell Kuroo’s noticed it, too. 

There’s a documentary playing on his TV screen, but Kei couldn’t summarize it for anyone. He leans heavily against Kuroo’s side, feeling Kuroo’s arm wrap a little tighter around his shoulders when he does. 

Kei pauses the documentary. 

“Can I talk to you about something?”

His heart starts to hammer in his chest. If this is going to ruin everything, better to do it now before it’s been too long. Rationally he knows it won’t end everything, that it probably can’t, but it’s been hanging in the back of his mind so long now that it’s morphed into something so much larger and scarier. Now or never.

“Sure.” Kuroo whispers back, resting his head gently on top of Kei’s. 

“It’s about when we lost touch.”

Kei feels Kuroo stiffen beside him. He swallows hard and finds the words to continue. “Part of it was just time. I was getting used to college and felt overwhelmed. Part of it was me figuring myself out. Except for Tadashi, I kind of tried to distance myself from high school to see what else there was. That’s how it started.”

He pauses and Kuroo is quiet beside him, listening, still holding him close. 

“That’s how it started,” he repeats, unsure of how to continue even though he’s done this conversation a hundred times in his head, “but that wasn’t everything.” The words he’s obsessed over escape him now. “You remember that year Bokuto and Akaashi broke up?”

“Yea.” From his tone, it’s clear Kuroo’s surprised that topic came up. 

They’re sitting so close together, Kei’s certain Kuroo can feel, and probably also hear, his heart thudding around in his chest. His voice is shaky when he finds the words. “Akaashi and I dated for several of those months.”

Kuroo falls completely still beside him. Kei wants to say something more but he doesn’t know what. He wants to explain? To rationalize? But he just waits.

The seconds stretch into minutes. Kei’s uneasiness grows and he pulls away, feeling like his muscles are buzzing with apprehension. It’s dim in the room, but he can see Kuroo clearly. 

Kuroo works out a small smile. His hand drops from where it had been holding Kei’s shoulder and comes to rest on top of Kei’s hand. 

“That’s… information.” He says slowly. He tries to chuckle but it comes out garbled and choked. He squeezes Kei’s hand. “Just processing.” He says quietly. “My instinct is to joke and move on. I’m trying not to.”

Kei sits stone still until Kuroo opens his mouth to speak again. It takes a while, both of them looking at the floor or the wall and only occasionally catching the other’s eyes. But Kuroo’s hand is still on top of his and he doesn’t dare move it. 

When Kuroo does speak, it’s slowly, like he’s carefully choosing every word before he says it. “I want to say ‘whatever,’ but clearly this was important for you to talk about. I don’t care, though. Not in a negative way, it just, doesn’t bother me.” He clears his throat. “It’s just a little weird.”

Kei searches his face for some indication of what he means but finds nothing. “You’re not mad? Or grossed out? Or - I don’t know.”

Kuroo shakes his head softly. “Nothing like that. I couldn’t be mad, Kei, I have no reason to be mad. It’s just, I spent that whole year knowing that Akaashi saw other people. I cut Akaashi out for a while. He was going through something, obviously, but I took Bokuto’s side almost entirely. I was angry at him and pissed at whoever he thought was better than Bokuto, vilified all these other guys I imagined him dating. And now you’re a part of that story.” His voice grows quieter as he talks. “It’s just weird. Not bad, just weird.”

Kei’s not sure how to react. When he ran the scenarios in his head, this is the closest to the best case he could imagine, but in the moment, nothing feels right. Kuroo hasn’t moved much since he finished speaking and Kei can’t find enough of his voice to make a sound, let alone form words. His hand has grown warm and sweaty under Kuroo’s, but he’s glad it’s there. 

An ambulance passes by his building and cuts the silence. 

Kuroo sighs heavily and lifts his hand to run it through his hair. “I really want to tell a joke now. Been sitting on one for a while.” He laughs weakly. “But I think it’d just make things, I don’t know.”

Kei pries a smile from the corner of his lips. 

“So you probably don’t want to hang out with them?”

Looking down at the floor, Kei shrugs. “I don’t know. Time has passed. I talked to Akaashi a few weeks ago. It helped. Things just… ended really badly.”

Kuroo hums to show he’s listening but doesn’t reply. 

“I don’t hate him, if that’s what you’re wondering. And it’s impossible to hate Bokuto.” He works harder on trying to lighten the look on his face. Kuroo smiles a little. “But it’s still hard for me.”

“I understand. Sucks, but I get it.” 

“I’m sorry. It’s a mess.”

Kuroo’s hand finds Kei’s once again. “You don’t need to be sorry. You didn’t do anything to me. You didn’t do anything to be sorry about. And it’s not a mess.”

“It’s kind of a mess.”

“Our mess.”

Kuroo takes a few silent beats before he starts tapping his foot on the floor, chewing his bottom lip. “While we’re being honest and getting things off our chests --” 

Kei holds his breath. 

“When we started seeing each other, were you seeing anyone else?”

“No.”

Kuroo grows still again. “That makes it worse.” He sighs. “So I did. Even after I started to realize how I felt, I kept seeing a few others, trying to push things away and stick to what we had agreed to. It was out of habit? I don’t know, but I am really sorry about that.”

Kei lets the words sink in. Of course he’d always suspected. He remembers the first time he stayed at Kuroo’s and noticed how well the bathroom was set up to accommodate a guest. His cruel brain tries to picture the other people who’ve been in that bed, seen Kuroo the way he’s seen him. Regrets take hold in the form of a sea of “if only… if only… if only…”

“When did it stop?” Kei asks. 

Kuroo jumps a little. “Only a few weeks in, I swear. I felt awful. I feel awful now, too.”

“You don’t need to. We weren’t dating.” Kei says the words knowing it’s what makes sense, but a traitorous part of him feels jealous and twisted up inside. 

“I know, but I’m still sorry.”

Kei swallows hard, trying to stop the spiral of negative thoughts and just focus on what he can see now, what he can feel now. He can see Kuroo looking at him, eyes growing glassy. He can feel his hand on his own. He can hear Kuroo’s shallow breaths and hear his own heart beating in his chest. He breathes in, holds it, lets it out in a familiar pattern.

“Our mess.” He says finally.

“What?”

“It’s our mess, like you said.” His eyes feel heavy but he forms a smile that has nothing to do with joy but everything to do with connection. 

Kuroo mirrors back with a fond look of his own. “Our own mess.”

“That we made together.”

They sit for a while longer still facing one another, Kuroo’s hand on Kei’s, until the emotional toll sets in and Kei feels physically overwhelmed. He leans over and presses his head against Kuroo’s chest, wrapping one arm around his middle. Kuroo kisses the top of his head and pulls him close with both arms. 

Tangled together, they stay like that until the TV shuts itself off and Kuroo makes some joke that Kei only half listens to but he coughs out a laugh in reply. 

Kuroo stays the night. There’s no passion before bed, but Kei still feels himself drawing closer to Kuroo even as they get ready to go to sleep. Kuroo stays by his side, too, brushing his teeth beside him and following him to the kitchen when Kei goes to get his usual glass of water. 

And when they finally go to sleep, Kuroo doesn’t crawl over to his own side. He lines his whole body along Kei’s and holds him tight. Kei squeezes the arm around him. Somehow sleep comes quickly that night.

He’s amazed when he wakes up in the same position the next morning. 

_Our mess. That we made together._ He thinks as he shuts off his alarm and snuggles even closer. Work can wait a little longer today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit longer than the other chapters. And I had to rip it from my bones. For, like, two weeks I had fewer than 1k written. And I didn't even like it.
> 
> So legit two days ago I just started over and wrote like I was on fire and then this happened. 
> 
> I've been writing this story since March. The only thing I've worked on for longer is my Masters Thesis. 
> 
> I like it. And I love y'all. Thanks for being the absolute best. ┐(・。・┐)


	17. Happy birthday, Kei.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9.27.18 Happy Birthday, Tsukki!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally just about Kei's birthday. I hope you enjoy! I just wanted to have some fun. We'll be back to your regularly scheduled programming shortly.

“So what do you want to do for your birthday next week?” Kuroo dips his spoon into the carton of ice cream between them on his couch. The rules are always a little different at his place. Eating take-out on the floor? Good. Eating ice cream with no bowls on the couch? Excellent. 

Kei waits to respond, scooping out another spoonful and letting it melt on his tongue before he answers. “Nothing.”

Kuroo rolls his eyes a little. “Come on, I want to celebrate the day of your birth! Yay Kei!” He lifts up his vanilla-covered spoon and waves his hands around. 

Kei grins but quickly adds an eye roll of his own. “I’m not really one for birthdays.”

“Well, what did you do last year?”

The innocent question smacks him in the chest. 

This time last year, Kei’s life looked so different. 

It was the middle of the work week. He met up with Tadashi closer to the city center, where Tadashi worked, for drinks before dinner with Touma. 

Kei remembers talking and laughing about nothing over pricey drinks that Tadashi selflessly picked up the tab for. He can’t recall a single thing they talked about, but he can remember laughing so hard that he choked on a sip of his drink, the alcohol burning all the way down as Tadashi tried his best to help through his own tears of laughter. 

But Kei also still feels the sting of leftover guilt when he remembers checking his phone at some point to see a bunch of texts from Touma and a handful of missed calls. He had stayed well past the time he had promised Touma he would meet him.

The look Tadashi gave him when Kei told him he had to go was soft but otherwise unreadable.

Kei was looking forward to dinner, but he couldn’t wash away the selfish part of him that wanted to stay put on that bar stool right next to Tadashi for the whole night. 

That evening over dinner, at an Indian place Kei loved, Touma gave him a new book Kei had been talking about. The gesture reminded him of the ways Touma paid attention to the things he mentioned in passing. Like they usually did, they started reminiscing about college, laughing and talking, but always looking back.

They were always looking back. 

Those last few months, Kei felt like he was walking forward while looking over his shoulder. Planning for the future was something they hardly ever talked about and when they did, they found themselves on opposites sides of so many choices. But they soldiered on for far longer than they probably should have. 

Kei wonders if they had ended it sooner, if they could have been friends now. Maybe if they hadn’t let the silences between them take hold and foster such bitterness between them, maybe they wouldn’t have had to end things so completely, so awfully in the end.

“Nothing much.” Kei snapped back to the conversation, blinking when he caught Kuroo staring at him thoughtfully. “Saw Tadashi. A quiet night.” 

“No big celebration?” Kuroo asked, surprised. “Not even on the weekend?”

Kei shrugged. “It’s not really my thing. Even my parents stopped throwing me parties pretty early on and I finally got to swap them out for sleepovers with just Tadashi.” A memory comes sweeping back into Kei’s mind. “Oh god, two years ago Tadashi texted Hinata and all of them to get them to come down to Tokyo for the weekend. It was a mess.” He tries to grumble, but a smile creeps through.

Kuroo laughs. “What happened?”

“Let’s just say everyone ended up on the wrong side of a few bottles of rum and memories from that weekend are still spotty at best.”

“I’ve had a few birthdays like that.”

“And I’m done with birthdays that look like that.”

“Oh but why? Sounds like fun. Plus, seeing a drunk Chibi-chan is something I’d like to do.”

Kei shakes his head. “You absolutely do not. Drunk Hinata and Kageyama together? Just gross.”

The conversation drifts from there. Kuroo recalls some of his birthday mishaps, including a disaster of a surprise party Bokuto once put together, before Kei drags them both away from the idea of those big celebrations.

“Yea, you’re right.” Kuroo concedes. “The best parts were always just, like, Kenma and me playing video games until the sun came up. So, what do you want to do, birthday boy?”

Kei meets his gaze, knowing he’s not working his way out of this one. Kuroo’s determined. “Just dinner would be nice.”

Kuroo’s smile brightens. “You want to go out? Or I could cook for you.”

“Out’s good. No clean up.” He offers quickly, not wanting to insult Kuroo’s cooking which has, in fact, been a blessing the last few weeks. 

“Where do you want to go?”

“You pick. My present is that I don’t have to choose.” 

 

***

 

Together Kuroo and Kei wait on the street corner outside the restaurant for the taxi Kuroo’s already called to take them to the next stop on “Kei’s big, but little, bithday celebration.” 

Kei tucks his phone into his pocket. It’s useless anyway, nearly dead after he used up an insane amount of data to video chat with Tadashi while they waited for their food. It was shorter than Kei would have wished for, but sweet, and ended with a promise to talk for real - “for hours!” Tadashi had shouted - over the weekend.

Earlier that evening, Kuroo had dropped off a small bag inside Kei’s entryway, then slid his hand onto Kei’s back, guiding him out into the chilly evening air. When Kuroo had told him there were two parts, he did his best to hide the pre-exhaustion he felt at being out so long after work, but failed. Kuroo just laughed and assured him that he wouldn’t pick anything he didn’t think Kei would like. 

Now, on a full, content stomach, he’s a little more caught up in the celebratory mood. 

On the taxi ride over to the next mystery destination, Kuroo glides gentle fingers up and down Kei’s thigh while he talks about his new art projects. By the time they’ve reached part two, Kei’s warm and relaxed, even as nightfall brings a chill to the air. 

When they step out, all Kei sees is an unmarked green door. He looks at Kuroo and raises an eyebrow. Kuroo just smirks and slips his hand into Kei’s, knocking on the door three times with his free hand. 

The door creeps open, pulled gently by a woman Kei could only immediately describe as solidly built. She’s nearly as tall as the both of them, dressed in a dark blue blazer with the sleeves pushed up, a loud hawaiian shirt underneath. The room behind her is hidden behind a wall that curves around the corner. 

“Welcome.” She says plainly, a smile playing on her lips as she holds out her hand without another word.

Kuroo fishes in his pocket with his free hand and Kei feels a little like he’s been thrown into a game where he hadn’t been explicitly told all of the rules. He crinkles his nose watching their exchange unfold. 

From his wallet, Kuroo slips out a plain white business card with his name, his signature, and a string of numbers. The woman glances over the card and gives him a slight nod. “Good to have you with us this evening, Kuroo-san.”

She turns to wave them in and Kuroo wiggles his eyebrows at Kei, a confident grin spreading across his face. He leads them around the corner, Kei’s hand still held delicately in his own. 

At the restaurant he had wondered why Kuroo told him to dress up a little, as the setting really hadn’t warranted it, but stepping past the woman he understands why. 

Kei feels like he’s in another time, another planet. The only lights are dimmed ornate lamps dotting dark, oaken tables in the rather small bar. Above their heads are heavy, wooden beams stretched across the ceiling. Beneath their feet are rugs worn down from time but no less exquisite. And the walls are lined with eclectic antiques - everything from a pair of taxidermy squirrels in top hats on a bookshelf to a gigantic painting of a samurai. 

Above the bar in big black letters are three rules: No loud talking, No arguing, No drunkenly misconduct of any kind (open to interpretation by the Woman in Charge). 

None of it makes sense. 

Kei decides he likes it. 

It’s too dark to feel self-conscious like he often does and if hawaiian shirts and blazers could be appropriate attire here, along with the bow-tied bartenders behind the bar, then this was a place where the regular rules, the ones Kei feels he so often missteps through in life, don’t apply - as long as he follows the three very agreeable rules nailed above the bar. 

He likes it, but he’s still not sure what to do. He glances over at Kuroo who’s looking at him expectantly, an unasked question on his lips, waiting for some sign of Kei’s reaction. Kei runs his thumb along Kuroo’s and gives his hand a little squeeze. It’s impossible to miss the way Kuroo’s chest puffs out at the confirmation.

At the bar, Kuroo leans over to whisper that there’s no menu, you just give a liquor and a flavor you want, and they create something for you. 

Kei grimaces, his fingers wiggling where they’re still intertwined with Kuroo’s. “You go first.”

Kuroo grabs one of the bartenders’ attention and launches into a conversation about whiskey like it’s second nature, dotting the small talk with lame jokes. Outwardly, he always rolls his eyes at Kuroo’s cheesy small talk, but he enjoys watching the way Kuroo laughs, the way he listens like he’s genuinely interested in what every single person has to say. Sometimes his sincerity overwhelms Kei, like he can’t imagine how Kuroo keeps himself safe from the outside world.

When Kuroo catches his eye, Kei does his best to silently communicate that he likes it here, but he would not like to join the conversation, thank you very much, and that it would be perfectly okay if Kuroo ordered for him, too. He hopes a stare accomplishes this goal. He’s relieved when Kuroo understands him. 

He finds himself even more at ease once he’s tucked into a corner next to Kuroo with his back against the plush armchair, admiring the way the candle on the small table between them does dangerously wonderful things to his boyfriend’s features. 

Kuroo shifts his weight to one side, leaning on his armrest to ask, “Do you like it?”

Kei has no idea if he means the drink, the place, or his birthday evening, but his answer is the same to all three. He reaches out to dance his fingertips across the back of Kuroo’s hand. “Yes.” He has to stop himself from wanting to keep travelling upwards until his hand could trace soft lines on Kuroo’s jawline, gently pulling him in for more something more substantial. “Thank you, Tetsurou.”

A soft smile plays across Kuroo’s lips and reaches his eyes. “Happy birthday, Kei.”

“You’ve already said that plenty of times today.” Kei’s voice is low and he can’t break their gaze, won’t move his hand, afraid to break the spell that’s made him forget that any other people exist. 

“I mean it every time.” He pauses, taking his hand off his glass to thread his fingers through Kei’s on top of the table. “So, it’s been a good evening?”

Kei nods gently. 

“And I did a good job picking places?”

“Yes.” Kei leans a little closer. 

“So I’ve figured out the inscrutable Tsukishima Kei?”

Kei raises an eyebrow. “Maybe a little.”

Kuroo flashes a self-satisfied smirk. Kei loves and hates the way it still makes his stomach flip the same way it did so many years ago. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Kei counters. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m taking my time with you.”

Kei shoots him a look, playful and suggestive. “I wouldn’t say we’re taking anything slow.”

Laughing, Kuroo replies simply. “True, in a sense. But you take time to unpack, you know, and I like figuring you out.”

“Sorry that I’m work?” Kei frowns slightly. 

“No! Not like that. I picked the wrong words.” Kuroo adds quickly, his hands shooting up to gesture like he does when he gets passionate about a point he’s making. As he talks, his voice grows softer until Kei is leaning closer to catch every word. “You have layers, Kei, and when I get to new ones, I like all of it, all of you, even more.”

Kei feels his face and neck grow warmer at the comment as it sinks in. He runs his finger over the rim of his glass, pausing at the orange peel garnish to pick at the fragrant skin. “You have layers, too.”

“I do?” Kuroo questions, his volume returning to normal. 

Kei just nods, a smile growing across his face. 

“And you like them?” Kuroo’s eyes dance in the candlelight and the smile he gives is so bright, Kei has to turn away to hide the color creeping onto his cheeks. 

It’s clear that Kuroo understands what he’s trying to say with so little. One day, he wants to be able to put all of these thoughts into words. He really wants to this time around. 

 

***

 

It’s late by the time they return to Kei’s apartment and Kei feels tired down to his bones from working a full day and then going out all evening, but he feels light and glad anyway. The moment they step through his door, Kuroo triumphantly scoops up the bag he dropped off earlier and presents it to Kei. “For you.”

Kei smirks, surprised by the weight of it, but pauses to take off his shoes first. Kuroo does, too, and they settle in on the couch in Kei’s living room, taking their normal spots next to one another. 

“You didn’t need to get me anything.”

“I didn’t! Open it. You’ll see.”

Kei carefully tugs at the brightly colored tissue paper until he sees the top of something. Reaching in he pulls out a handmade - something. He switches on the light next to him so he can see it better.

“It’s a pot! A planter. I saw all of you little succulents on the windowsill and I thought you could put more in here.” Kuroo explains, his voice matching the excitement of his body as he vibrates with anticipation next to Kei. “I’m sorry it looks so… like a kid made it. It’s been a while since I worked with ceramics.”

For a moment, Kei’s too stunned to do much but look at it. It’s dark blue, like the night sky, different hues mixing along the sides. Little silver stars dot the upper rim, but what captures his attention are the individual fireflies swirling around dark trees. There’s so many of them and when he looks closely enough he can see that they’re not just points of light, but there are little dark bodies around each warm glow. 

His voices catches in his throat and for once he’s thankful for the inability to find the right words. Kei’s sure there aren’t any words to match the feeling welling up in his chest. 

“You know, like the character for your name? Remember how I asked how to read your name when we first started talking and you wouldn’t give me your number, but then Chibi-chan did, but I didn’t know your name and so I kept bothering you and then finally, you were like --”

“I remember.” Kei interrupts, his voice barely above a whisper. He finally looks up, his heart daring himself to, and the look Kuroo’s giving him makes his heart feel heavy with fondness and love. This beautiful man. This beautiful, ridiculous, loud, thoughtful man. 

Settling it down carefully first, Kei launches himself at Kuroo, wrapping his arms around whatever he can grab. Kuroo falls backward onto the cushions, laughing warmly, before returning the embrace. 

They remain that way, delighted and tangled together, a few more “Happy birthday”s and whispered words between them until Kei yawns that he’s going to “rest for just a little bit,” burrowing a little more deeply into the spot he’s made for himself on Kuroo’s chest. 

 

***

 

Kei startles awake and looks at his clock across the room. It’s just before midnight. He stretches and Kuroo shifts below him, grumbling nonsense.

Kei looks down at him, marvelling at how the couch imprints along his cheek and his out of control hair do nothing to diminish just how great he looks. All the time. How can someone be so hot all the time?

“Tetsurou.” Kei whispers, stifling a yawn. “It’s still my birthday.”

Kuroo snorts. “I thought you didn’t care much for birthdays.” He replies slowly, voice thick with sleep. 

“Are you complaining?” Kei teases. 

Kuroo’s eyes finally open. He grins, running two hands up Kei’s back. “No.”

“Then I’d like to claim the rest of my present, please.” Kei hopes his tone delivers the message. He thinks of all of the planning Kuroo did to put the evening together and care so much about making sure Kei had such a wonderful evening and all of those feelings he had at the bar, watching the candlelight dance across his features, come rushing back. 

“And what would that be?” Kuroo plays dumb, but it’s clear by the way he grips Kei’s waist he already understands.

“I want to say ‘thank you.’”

“But it’s _your_ birthday.”

Kei bites his lip, acting like he’s thinking. “Well in that case, I can just get what I want.”

Kuroo’s hands dip below Kei’s waistline. “Your wish is my command.” 

Still relaxed and warm from sleep, their kisses stay slow but the passion grows. 

Quickly tossing his own shirt to the side, Kuroo stops Kei when he tries to remove his own. Instead, Kuroo guides Kei until he’s straddling his thighs, perched above him. Kuroo carefully unfastens each button, pressing his lips to the newly revealed skin each time. When he slides off Kei’s shirt, it’s in slow, heavy strokes down his arms. 

Kuroo ghosts his lips over Kei’s chest, dotting it with kisses, while his hands knead into the muscles on his back. When Kuroo runs his tongue roughly over a nipple, lightly taking it between his teeth, Kei gasps, his head tilting back. 

“What did you have in mind?” Kuroo whispers gruffly against his skin.

Kei settles his arms along Kuroo’s shoulders, clasping his hands behind his head. He makes a show of lowering himself down onto Kuroo’s lap, rolling his hips to cause more teasing friction along the way for both of them. “Just like this.” He answers once he’s slotted their hips together. 

It doesn’t take long for the rest of their clothing to be thrown hastily to the floor and for the pace of their kisses and touches to grow more needy and heated. Kuroo’s hands are kneading circles into Kei’s backside when he pulls back suddenly. 

“Do we have --?”

Kei groans, half hungry, half frustrated at the necessary interruption. “Bedside drawer, where it always is.”

“You don’t keep anything out here?”

“No.” Kei sneers, naked and needy, but still proud.

“With as often as we do it out here I just thought --”

Kei grunts. “Fine, I’ll go.”

Kuroo laughs, smacking his ass as he wriggles out from beneath him. “I’ll go, birthday boy.” He places a kiss on Kei’s cheek before he runs like a loose dog to the bedroom.

He saunters back in, making a show of strutting his hips and flexing his arms. 

Kei raises an eyebrow from where he settled onto the cushion, head propped up on his hand against the back of the couch. “Yea, that’s really doing it for me.” He deadpans, having to bite back a grin.

Kuroo cackles then rushes the rest of the way, picking up Kei and hastily resettling them into their previous position. Kei laughs at the suddenness and the ridiculousness of it all until Kuroo captures him in another kiss and he feels Kuroo pressing in hard against him. 

Against his lips, Kuroo suggests, “You know I could give you something I know you enjoy, work you open with my tongue until you --”

Kei squirms, but shakes his head. “No, not today. My birthday. My rules. I’m ready now.”

Kuroo hums and Kei hears the telltale pop of a cap before he feels Kuroo’s finger around his entrance. He locks his arms around Kuroo’s neck and moans appreciatively when the first one slides in. 

Kuroo shows every sign of taking his time like he usually does, slowly, so slowly stretching him with one before moving on. Kei whines, bucking his hips back into the motion to remind him of what he wants. 

“Kei--” Kuroo chokes out, and it’s something like surprise and concern in one go. “I don’t want to rush you.”

“I can take it. Just go.” He locks his eyes onto Kuroo’s. “I want it.”

He barely has time for his last words to leave before he’s biting his lip as a second finger enters. With Kei panting encouragements, Kuroo stretches him open and when Kuroo’s fingers have only just left, Kei’s ready for more.

Without a moment in between, Kei aligns himself and lazily lowers himself down. It’s the one thing he enjoys taking his time with. He likes to focus on the push he feels inside as he pulls Kuroo into himself. And when he can open his eyes, he likes to watch Kuroo’s face as he seats himself, Kuroo all but drooling over as he watches where they’re connected. 

Kei hums contentedly once he’s done, licking his lips and carding his fingers through the back of Kuroo’s hair. “Thanks for the help,” he moans, “but I got it from here.” 

Flexing his thighs, he starts to set his own rhythm, fucking himself on Kuroo’s length. He holds Kuroo against the couch with his hands, forcing him to give up any control as Kei searches for and then finds the spot that makes mouth fall open, spilling out sinful noises into his quiet living room. 

Kuroo’s fingers reach out to touch him, but Kei groans, batting him away. “Not yet.” He pants.

“Babe -” He whines, “I’m dying over here. Not gonna last. Let me.”

“Not yet.” Kei slams down harder, letting out a gasp. “Feels too good.” He moans, dripping out each word.

At that, Kuroo’s hips snap up more than they had before. A yell escapes Kei’s throat, mixing with Kuroo’s groans growing in volume as Kuroo asserts more control again. Kei lets him, too far gone now to complain, riding out the waves of pleasure until Kuroo’s thrusts become more erratic and he feels Kuroo’s thighs beneath him clench as he finds his release. 

“Now.” Kei demands breathlessly, “touch me now.”

Kuroo moans something unintelligible but reaches out to comply. Kei quickly spills onto Kuroo’s chest and stomach before falling forward, his head on Kuroo’s shoulder. 

It takes a moment for either of them to catch their breath. Kei’s the first one to talk. “We don’t usually get to do that.”

Kuroo manages only a questioning hum in response. 

“Come at the same time.”

His voice thick and heavy, Kuroo teases. “Yea, you always lose it first.”

“I do not.” Kei nips at his neck. 

“It’s fine. It means I’m doing a good job.”

Kei laughs, short and sweet against Kuroo’s messy hair. 

“Happy birthday, Kei.” Kuroo whispers into his ear.

“I don’t think it’s _technically_ my birthday anymore.”

“Then I hope it was a good one.”

Kei pauses for a moment, wrapping his arms a little tighter around his boyfriend. “It was.”

Kei’s thankful when, clean once more, they tuck themselves into his soft sheets instead of the scratchy couch. He flips onto his side to face Kuroo, giving a smile that he’s sure only one person has ever seen. It’s the one that slips out when Kei’s heart feels impossibly full. 

Kuroo throws a heavy arm around him and rubs his back until he falls asleep, leaving Kei still awake but trapped in an embrace he has no intention of trying to escape from. 

Until sleep claims him, too, Kei starts thinking of all the ways he could maybe, just maybe, try to do something just as good for Kuroo in November.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly what I had planned for ch 17, but I got it in my mind that I wanted to publish something for this wonderful boy's birthday, so here it is!
> 
> I had always planned for there to be some birthday scenes (it was originally just the first conversation and the bar), but, like always, it spiraled away from me. 
> 
> With a pressing deadline I didn't edit it *quite* as much as I'm used to, so sorry for any choppy bits or typos. I tried to clean it up as much as possible before TSUKKI'S BIRTHDAY, BECAUSE IT'S HIS BIRTHDAY AND I JUST... I HAD TO DO THIS. 
> 
> Also I've updated the final chapter count. It was going to be just 18, but you know... this happened (chapter 16.5?). 
> 
> A continued bucket of thanks for everyone to found this fic and stuck with it all time time and also to those of you who just found it recently and told me about how you caught up so quickly. Your kind words made my days so lovely!


	18. You like me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei helps Kuroo. Kuroo meets Kei's friends. Kei keeps trying and growing.

Kei’s tired. He’s not tired of Kuroo. He could see him and that stupidly infectious grin everyday, but Kei is tired of talking when he no longer wants to talk. Even when his interaction bubble has already popped, he’ll listen, really listen to everything Kuroo says because he cares, but if he’s honest with himself, Kei wants an evening where he’s done listening to other people. He needs to just a little bit alone. 

Lately, there’s been no balance between boyfriend time and Kei time. At first, Kei expected it. When things are brand new, he’d expected and even wanted to fill all of his hours with Kuroo. It was natural. But, as it always does, life and responsibilities had crept back in and they’d found a comfortable, steady pattern - a few evenings together, the weekends, too, but some time apart thrown in as well. It worked.

For the past week or so, though - Kei has trouble pinpointing when it began - he’s seen Kuroo every night. He’ll bring over food, eat dinner, and stay. He’ll go to volleyball practice, bring dinner, and stay. He’ll come over after work with handfuls of groceries, cook dinner, and stay. 

Kei feels like an ass for complaining about how thoughtful his boyfriend is, but he needs his space. He can feel himself growing snippier, having to hold back grouchy comments when they want to rise to the surface. 

So, when Kuroo calls to see if he could come over on another random Thursday night, Kei says he’s not feeling well. 

It’s not exactly a lie. He doesn’t feel at his best. He’s exhausted. Kei’s been accommodating for the early-morning snuggles by setting his alarm for 6AM instead of 6:30, but they always fall asleep so late and, truthfully, he wants that extra thirty minutes. For the past week, he’s been spaced-out at work and he doesn’t like making mistakes. Kei wants a good night’s sleep after an entire evening of being all by himself and talking and listening to no one, no one at all.

He just wishes he doesn’t feel so awful for wanting that. 

Kuroo ends up going out with friends and Kei goes to bed early. He falls asleep quickly, but he startles awake a few times in the night and wakes up feeling worse. 

Which is how, after another day of being grumpy and awful at work, he ends up at Kuroo’s doorstep with a bag of peace offerings for a fight Kuroo probably doesn’t even know they’re having. 

Kei knocks once. Twice. Sends a texts asking Kuroo if he’s home. He rocks his weight from the balls of his feet to his heels, back and forth, back and forth. He starts to wish he hadn’t shown up out of the blue. Why did he think a surprise would be better? This was dumb. The tension he feels in his fingers, curled around the plastic handles of the bags, starts to grow, twist up and around his arms, reaching his chest just as the door opens. 

“Hey, hi, sorry I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I just thought I’d -” he inwardly cringes at the way he sounds, hating the way his voice leaves his throat when he’s anxious. Kei lifts the bags in his hands to finish his sentence and finally gets a good look at Kuroo’s face. He looks about as tired as Kei feels. Maybe worse.

Smiling softly, Kuroo leads him in and kisses his cheek. “Always a good surprise.” He takes one of the bags and shuffles down the hallway, dragging his feet.

“Late night last night?” Kei asks as he rounds the corner into the kitchen where Kuroo is taking out the plastic containers of Italian food from the place he likes. 

“Something like that.” Kuroo mumbles in return. Kei watches as he reaches into his cabinets for plates, sets them down on the counter, straightens his shoulders, and lets out a sigh. When he turns around again his smile is bigger and his arms swing out to wrap around Kei, holding him close. “Thank you. This is sweet.”

Kei pokes him in his side. “It’s no big deal. You do it all the time, thought I could, too.”

“You feeling better?” Kuroo pulls back, taking the bottle of wine Kei pulled out from the other bag. 

Puzzled, Kei makes a face before remembering what he told Kuroo the night before. “Yea,” he recovers, “just a sick stomach or something. Over with now.”

Kei’s insides twist as they dance around one another. All of the actions and words passing between them seem the same on the outside, but something’s off. Kei has no idea if he’s just being weird or there’s actually something going on beneath the surface. It’s always so hard to tell and Kei has no emotional instincts to trust.

As they settle into dinner together at Kuroo’s tiny table, Kei decides with certainty that Kuroo’s quieter than usual. The grin is there, plastered wide as can be, and he speaks in energetic bursts, but it’s like fireworks - a bang followed by a sizzle, then silence. 

Kei digs his thumbnail into his other fingertips in a steady pattern under the table. Pinky, ring, middle, pointer. Reset. Again. 

“Is everything okay?” He ventures, twisting pasta around his fork with his other hand. 

“Yea,” Kuroo replies quickly, “why?”

“Just asking. You seem tired.”

Kuroo grins again but this time it starts to slip at the edges. “I am. I’m tired.”

Kei’s not sure how to reply as he watches Kuroo’s gaze drift off into a long stare. He doesn’t push.

He doesn’t need to. After a few beats, Kuroo’s attention snaps back to him, his eyes looking determined. “Kei, can we promise something?”

“I guess.” Kei replies slowly, trying to read the situation. 

“I’m tired of games and dating rules and all of that, so can we just promise to skip all that?”

“What do you mean?” The food is forgotten as Kei leans forward in his chair. 

“Like all those things you shouldn’t do, or things that are too soon to do - all of those rules. Can we skip that?”

“I think I already broke all of those rules when I showed up at your doorstep mid-meltdown.”

A puff of laughter comes before a genuine smile creeps into the corners of Kuroo’s mouth for the first time that night. “I guess you’re right.” He drums his fingers on the table. “So I guess it’s fine to tell you that I am really tired but that it’s more than that, but also it’s nothing, so whatever.”

Kei can practically see the wheels spinning in Kuroo’s mind. He reaches across the table and places a gentle hand on top of his. 

Kuroo’s shoulders relax at the touch, but he looks down towards the floor. “Like, I understand feeling sad or bummed when something happens, but sometimes I am just going about my life doing fine when out of nowhere I remember that my friends make more money than me, or that I spent a lot of time and money on degrees that I only kind of use--”

Instinct tells Kei to interrupt, to tell Kuroo why all of those things are so wrong, but he holds his tongue. 

“ --or that the other people I know seem to have things way more together than I do and then I just,” he snorts out another airy laugh, “have to have those pity parties in my closet. Or -” he looks up at Kei “- run over to your place to get away from them.”

“You’re always welcome to come over.”

“I know, but it’s a lot and, I don’t know.”

“I get it.” Kei looks across the table. “It’s easier to wallow. Feels really good in an awful kind of way sometimes.”

Kuroo laughs again, like he’s pushing away the discomfort. “It does. And it doesn’t.”

Standing up from his chair, Kei circles the little table and holds out his hand, motioning for Kuroo to get up, too. “You know, you made me an offer when I showed up here like a mess. I might take you up on it now.” 

With a puzzled expression, Kuroo follows his lead out of the kitchen and into his bedroom. Still confused, Kuroo tries to tug back on his hand, to ask questions, but Kei cuts him off, pointing to the still-open sliding closet door. 

“Where do you sit? For the pity parties, where do you sit?”

Kuroo stares at him, a smirk on his lip but fondness in his eyes. “On that pile of laundry.”

“Is it clean?”

“Nope.” Kuroo laughs and Kei grimaces. 

“Sit down.”

Kuroo leans in towards Kei’s ear to whisper, “I like it when you’re bossy.”

Kei raises an eyebrow in response. Chuckling, Kuroo plops down onto the pile on the floor of his small closet, his legs splaying out in front of him and his head tangled up in sleeves and pant legs. 

“Scoot up.” Kei orders, and he gently pushes on Kuroo’s shoulder so he can settle in behind him. There, on a pile of dirty clothes, he wraps both arms around Kuroo and pulls him back against his chest, letting the back of Kuroo’s head rest on his shoulder. “Go ahead and feel bad. I’ll just be here.”

“Well I can’t now!” Kuroo snuggles back even further, twisting his head until Kei can feel his soft breaths along his neck. 

“And why’s that?” 

“‘Cause you’re here.” Kuroo nervously picks at Kei’s fingers, lifting them up one by one and letting them drop. He mumbles the last part. “I don’t feel bad when you’re here. That’s why I came over so much. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Kuroo hums questioningly. 

“I’m the same.” Kei inhales deeply and lets it out with his own admission. “I don’t feel bad when you’re around either.”

Together they sit in silence, Kuroo lovingly playing with Kei’s fingers and Kei resting his head on the pillow of Kuroo’s forever messy hair. At first Kei has to try really hard to not think about the dirty underwear and workout clothes he’s most definitely sitting on, but then he finds that he forgets about it entirely with his arms around Kuroo and his boyfriend’s clothes surrounding them in the relative darkness.

“I know I’ve been bugging you lately.”

Kei snaps out of his calm reverie. “What? No you haven’t.”

Kuroo playfully jabs him in the side. Kei won’t admit it. By the look on Kuroo’s face, he doesn’t have to.

“You know, when I come over, or you’re over here, you don’t have to, like, entertain me. I just like being around you. You can read or whatever you want to do and I’m okay just being in the same room as you - like when you used to stay over and watch me work in the mornings. I mean, I want to always talk your ear off and share everything, especially now that you’re my _boyfriend_ , but I can learn.”

“That sounds nice.” 

“You can read to me.”

Kei clicks his tongue. “Read to yourself.”

“No, I want to hear your voice!” Kuroo whines and Kei puts on a show of sighing over it, but it’s impossible to hide the smile sneaking out because Kuroo sounds more like himself again.

 

***

 

“Ooh, careful.” Kuroo winces as Kei’s hand absentmindedly slides up his back. They’re only a block or two away from Eiko’s apartment and Kei hadn’t even realized his hand had found Kuroo’s back on their walk through the quieter blocks of his friend’s neighborhood. 

“Sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s okay. I stopped ‘ya before you got up there.” Kuroo gently pats the back of his right shoulder where a new tattoo has just reached the itching stage. “I want to scratch it so bad.”

Just before they left, Kei helped him rub ointment on it, joking about how terribly unsexy the pink skin was, but carefully running gentle fingertips over the delicate sumi-e inspired ivy stretching from his shoulder to his spine. Kei knew he had been dying to get another for months now, but he had been reaching for ideas.

“When’s he going to fill in the rest?”

“Once this heals a little better. I’m gonna pop back in three weeks.” 

“Seems like an awful lot to go through.” Kei adds, his lips forming a stiff line.

Kuroo shifts his shoulder so the edge of his t-shirt isn’t rubbing his skin too much. “But it’s so worth it. I think you’d agree. You seem to like ‘em” He winks, then pauses thoughtfully. “Would you ever get one?”

Kei shakes his head quickly. “Too painful. Too permanent.” He replies immediately, but the thought’s trickled into his mind more than once when he’s tracing the lines on Kuroo’s warm skin in bed. 

“If you did, what do you think you’d want?” There’s a sparkle in Kuroo’s eyes that Kei can’t miss. 

Kei shrugs. “I don’t really have anything I like _that_ much.” 

That’s not the whole truth. When Kei thinks about it, he imagines it the same way every time, but saying it out loud is too hard. He knows how happy it would make Kuroo to hear it, but he can’t form the sounds. It’s too sincere. 

He chews the inside of his mouth as they climb the steps to Eiko’s place. “If I did get something,” he starts, stressing the “if” and summoning as much indifference in his tone as possible, “I’d want it to be something that, maybe, you drew for me.” 

Kuroo stops short of his next step and reaches for Kei, grabbing him in an awkward hug that pulls him off-balance. “New record. That’s the cutest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Get off.” Kei grumbles, pushing back, but he’s grinning. He takes the last few steps to his friend’s door. “We have to be appropriate.”

Kuroo stands up tall outside Eiko’s door, pulling his shoulders back and tilting his chin up dramatically. “Like this?”

Kei rolls his eyes. “Perfect.” And he’s glad for the humor because, while he’d done a great job all morning of distracting himself from the nervous knots building in his stomach, once he was outside Eiko’s door, hearing his friend’s voices inside, the situation is suddenly very real. 

He’s introducing Kuroo to his friends.

As his boyfriend. 

Once he knocks and the door swings open, Kei watches Kuroo deflate just a little. His shoulders droop, his smile slips for just a moment. Kei feels himself stand a little taller. He paints on a smirk and greets Eiko louder than he normally would. 

She ushers them both in, spinning around on her socks as she hands them both a beer without asking. 

Kuroo shuffles in behind Kei as the two of them are welcomed inside by his friends that are already there. They all say hey and make sure Kuroo feels like he’s a part of the group by giving him a spot to sit in the living room. 

It’s all uncomfortably stiff as the conversation starts with the most bland, neutral topics (“It’s been a lot cooler in the mornings lately, and the weather next weekend looks nice”…), but he knows they’re trying to get a read on him. 

By the way Kuroo’s sitting, more tightly pulled into himself than normal, he can obviously feel it, too. 

Everyone else important in Kei’s life already knows Kuroo. Everyone from Karasuno knows him, some better than others, but at the very least they know the “scheming captain” or “the rooster head Saltyshima’s always hanging out with.” 

Even his family has met him before, at Nationals in his first year, which might make it easier when he -- Kei stops the train of thought before it takes off. Too soon to think about meeting family. 

But these friends don’t know Kuroo at all. If they’ve seen him, it was only in old photos and he never pointed him out. 

And boy, is Kuroo probably a whole lot different than they expected. Touma was just like the rest of the group, but Kuroo’s not - at least not on the surface. 

The thought makes a smug smirk spread across Kei’s face. The nerves are still there, but they’re shoved in the backseat because, he realizes, it just feels so good to surprise people. He likes reminding people that there are more sides to him than what is easily seen.

To be honest, he likes to remind himself of that fact, too. He has patterns, routines, and he gets stuck in ruts like anyone else, but he can surprise himself. 

“Tsukishima says you know each other from high school?” Eiko steers the conversation out of small talk and dips her toes into what everyone wants to know. 

As they wait for the rest of the group to arrive, there’s six of them gathered around Eiko’s coffee table - some on the couch, some on cushions on the floor. Kei and Kuroo are both on the floor. Eiko saddles right up beside Kuroo immediately when she returns from her kitchen with a tray of snacks. 

“We both played volleyball.” Kuroo offers. He opens his beer can and Eiko motions for him to tap it against hers in a silent “cheers” before he takes his first sip. He grins. 

“So you’re from Miyagi, too?”

“No, just me. Kuroo’s from Tokyo.” Kei says.

“We saw each other at training camps and stuff. Our schools were rivals.” Kuroo adds. 

Kei continues to chime in with a casual, deadpan tone. “When our teams played each other, we would make out a bunch of times.”

“Kei!” Kuroo sputters and there’s chuckles around the table. 

“Like you weren’t just trying to come up with some way to say that.” Kei savors his small victory. 

“I was _trying_ to come up with clever euphemisms like we had lots of one-on-one practice. Or that we really worked up a sweat together.”

“That last one is too obvious to be clever.”

“I wasn’t trying to be clever. I was trying to be gross.”

Eiko’s grin stretches across her face, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, I like him. He can stay.”

“Only if he survives the murder most foul that’s about to shake this group to its very core.” His friend Daiki says ominously as he walks into the room, dropping a large blue game box in the middle of everyone. 

Once over the first few awkward hurdles, Kuroo fits in nicely. He frustrates Kei when he needs reminders of the rules, _again_ , but he makes the room erupt with laughter and he holds Kei’s hand under the table.

By the end of an evening of beers, board games, and more Chinese take-out than anyone has any right to eat, Kei’s glad he brought him, even though they did all completely fail at finding the killer in the game and ended up as ghosts. 

On the walk back to the station, Kei slips his hand into Kuroo’s. They don’t say much, Kei’s all “talked out” for now, but they don’t need to. This is enough.

 

***

 

As they fall into a comfortable pattern, it’s undeniable that there are regular routines. But even though it’s more or less expected that they’ll spend most of the weekend together, Kei doesn’t like to assume he’s staying at Kuroo’s, but he feels weird bringing a change of clothes and essentials “just in case” and, sort of, keeping them hidden until he knows for sure. Kuroo, on the other hand, has no such qualms and will bring whatever and set up in Kei’s place for the weekend if that’s where Friday evening takes him. 

So, Kei decides to start asking. Usually Kuroo replies excitedly, making Kei embarrassed that he even asked, but it always makes him feel better, knowing he’s not intruding. 

Kei>> Am I staying at your place on Saturday?

Kuroo>> Babe, you know I love it when you stay, but actually, I have some friends coming over, if that’s okay

Kei>> Yea, of course. No problem. 

Today’s different. Too different. Kei’s hung out with Kuroo and his friends plenty of times. It’s weird for Kuroo not to extend an invitation. Maybe it’s just Kenma. He knows he needs their time together, but a nervous feeling pulls at his stomach. He did say “friends” - plural. 

Kei>> Weekend with Kenma?

Kuroo>> No - I wish. He’s going to be out of town for a family thing that he’s been low-key whining about for ages 

Kei>> oh, okay

The conversation rolls on. Kei has his head propped up on the side of his couch. The news is playing in the background but he’s more focused on what he’s going to try to do for dinner and keeping up with Kuroo’s texts coming every few moments - 

Until there’s an incoming call. 

“Tetsurou?” Kei asks, surprised. 

He hears a sigh on the other end, then a long intake of breath. After which comes a string of words so fast he has to press the receiver closer to his ear to not miss anything. “Kei, I don’t like being vague or keeping things from you so I’m hanging out with Bokuto and Akaashi on Saturday because it’s been awhile since we could all get together for a longer than just, like, volleyball with my weird little team or drinks after work because of Akaashi’s job being crazy recently, and I wanted to tell you, I really did, but then it made my stomach hurt and I didn’t, but I’m telling you now because my stomach hurt even worse when I didn’t say anything about it at all because not saying something is basically the same as lying and I won’t do that.”

Kuroo stops to take a breath while Kei processes. “Thank you for telling me,” he starts, unsure of where this sentence is going to take him, “but it’s really okay. We can have lives outside of each other.”

“I know, but this is different.”

Kei chews hit bottom lip. “I know it is.”

“And we haven’t seen much of each other not just because of work or whatever, but also, things are just off. Like I still see them, but not as much recently. And Bo and I used to talk, like, all the time. Just texts of dumb stuff all day long. But Bokuto has been really mopey since --” Kuroo cuts himself off, like someone slamming on car brakes.

Kei can just feel what the rest of that sentence was. “Does Bokuto know?”

“Yea.” Kuroo sighs, then the dam bursts open again. “At first he was angry that I knew and didn’t tell him. But it turns out he was just frustrated with Akaashi for not telling him sooner, but knew he couldn’t be mad at Akaashi because they had both promised to leave that time in the past when they got back together, so he was just taking that feeling out on me, so he’s not angry. We’re fine. It’s just, I don’t know, uncomfortable right now.”

“I’m sorry.” Kei says because he can’t think of anything else to say and this absolutely feels like his fault. 

“Don’t be. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just not sure what to do moving forward, you know? I’ll just talk to you and be open about who I’m hanging out with, I guess, if that’s okay.”

Kei agrees and they forge forward in the conversation, switching topics abruptly once the dust settled. He’s glad Kuroo will talk to him about it. Any kind of communication is better than none. Kei’s working on rewriting the way he carries himself as “half” of something instead of just seeing this whole “dating thing” as two individuals shoved together. He’s taking steps. He’s making progress, he knows. 

After Kuroo hangs up to eat his own dinner and work on some projects before bed, Kei sends one more text. 

Kei>> Hey. Hope your week is going well.

He cringes at the forced friendliness of his tone, but forges on.

Kei>> Do you have time for coffee again this week?

The reply comes not even a minute later.

Akaashi>> Of course, yes. Does Thursday work for you? 

 

***

 

Kei and Akaashi meet at the same coffee shop as the last time but they end up having to sit outdoors since every other seat was taken. Kei shivers into his coat and wraps his hands around his coffee cup a little tighter as they settle across from one another at a small, wooden table outside. Fall’s only just begun but the wind in Tokyo is wicked as it whips between the buildings and the morning has been gloomy and threatening rain for hours. 

And Kei is absolutely a baby about the cold, though he’d never say it out loud. 

On the other hand, Akaashi is sitting in a crisp, white button-down with only a dark blue sweater over top. He’s wearing the same cool and leveled expression that Kei always associates with him, but he’s softly tapping his fingers along the side of his cup. 

Akaashi stood in line with him, they ordered together, Akaashi even paid, but they haven’t said anything much aside from the usual canned conversational topics that adults have to be so good at in order to survive. Kei knows the pressure of starting the conversation is on him since he asked Akaashi to come. It’s not even that it’s as painful at last time, far from it, in fact. This time feels different. 

No, what’s odd is the disconcerting strangeness of feeling so uncomfortable, so unfamiliar with someone who has seen him naked and is very good friends with the man who is currently seeing him naked. It’s ridiculously unpleasant. 

Kei shivers again. Then he reaches up his hand to push up his glasses and pinch at the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have a clever way to say this,” he begins, “but you’re friends with Tetsurou, good friends, and I don’t want him to have to choose or feel like he needs to hide something when he sees you two, so if there’s some way we can make this less -” Kei searches for a word.

Akaashi finds one instead. “Horrendously awkward?”

Kei laughs nervously. “Exactly.” He still can’t bring himself to look straight at him. He holds his head high, true to his normal stature, but he’s glancing around at the other people or the cars passing by on the street. 

A silence passes between them until Akaashi clears his throat and breaks it. “How are things going?”

“What?”

“With Kuroo-san and you -” he groans, “this is already weird. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to skip forward into feeling fine, but I’m still so sorry. I was just the worst version of myself back then and I think about it every time I see you.”

“You weren’t--”

“I was. I was still me, and I cared about you, I did, but I wasn’t the me I wanted to be.”

“I wasn’t the best either.”

“Don’t say that. That’s not fair to you, I was definitely the worse half.”

Kei thinks back and all he can remember is Akaashi laughing, holding his hand as they ran off into the night on another ‘who knows what could happen?’ evening with Akaashi’s college friends. He remembers Akaashi helping him study and decorating his room with him so it looked less like a sad hospital room. He remembers their first kiss, their first night together - how those two happened within hours of one another. 

He found Akaashi at a time when he was wrapped so tightly within himself, so closed up with all of his insecurities, he needed someone to break him out of it before he collapsed into himself like a dying star. 

If he chops off the last few days of them being together, it’s a mess of blurry memories of being sucked in to the seemingly calm but frighteningly fun version of Akaashi’s little world. 

But those last few days can’t be forgotten. The sting is less fresh now, but it’s there. Probably forever. 

“It’s not really a competition. We were both, well, exactly who we were then.”

Akaashi hums solemnly and nods. “And I know I’m not that person now. Back then I was self-sabotaging left and right. I was on track to ruin things with you long before I actually did.”

Kei finally looks straight at him. Akaashi is staring into the shop, his gaze miles away from where they are. “I don’t want to explain myself, to excuse any of it, but I just felt like I had been stuck on this pathway in high school, like it was some one-way train going at light speed towards nothing I wanted. I wanted to jump off of everything. I broke up with Bokuto. I switched majors. My grades plummeted. My attendance was horrible. And somewhere in that sea of absolute shit I found you again.”

His voice cracks and Kei politely pretends not to notice. 

“I’ve thought about it a lot, and without dating you I think I would have gone down a much more tumultuous path. I regret how I ended things. I regret hurting you. But I don’t regret running into you that night.”

Kei waits before replying. He wants to check that he means it first, that he’s not just saying it as a knee-jerk reaction, a way to keep up with social cues. No, he decides, he means it. “I don’t regret it either.”

“I just wish I could have been there for you, too.” A ghost of a smile appears on Akaashi’s face. “If you’d ever let me, I could try to be that friend for you sometime. I owe you that and so much more.”

Their eyes meet fully for the first time and Kei chews his lip before nodding gently. He snaps his eyes away and charges into less sincere territory. “You still a know-it-all?”

Akaashi grins. “Are you?”

“Fair point.”

There’s so much left unsaid, but Kei wants it to stay that way. He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. It wouldn’t help anything. Akaashi was someone he deeply cared about at one point, and even though it would look so much different this time around, he thinks he could again. Probably can. 

He’ll try. “So what exactly do you do at your job?” Kei asks.

The whole conversation painfully awkward, and it’s absolutely forced, but they both try to have a normal interaction. It’s short, barely ten minutes after Akaashi’s airing of emotions, but to Kei it feels like a huge step - not just for himself, but for Kuroo, too. 

 

***

 

Kei startles awake from an accidental Sunday afternoon nap to a knock at the door. He looks around, grabs his glasses, checks the time, and sees a text pop up on his phone. 

Kuroo>> here

Kei>> waking up, coming now

“Waking up?” Kuroo snorts. “And here I was, sweating it up at practice while my boyfriend sleeps the whole day away.”

“I have no regrets.” Kei tugs him inside and kisses him as the door shuts behind them.

Kuroo hangs up his jacket on a hook next to Kei’s, slips his sneakers off next to Kei’s boots, and follows his normal pathway to the living room. 

“Have you showered?” Kei scrunches up his nose as he calls back over his shoulder to Kuroo.

“Yes! Don’t make that face.” Kuroo slides along the floor to catch up to Kei and wraps his body around him. “I’m covering you with my manly scent!”

Kei wriggles but can’t break free. He whines and Kuroo cackles until they fade into laughter and Kei spins in Kuroo’s hold to share soft kisses in front of the couch. 

As they break apart, Kuroo’s eyes drift towards his uncharacteristically cluttered coffee table. “What’s all that?” Kuroo asks.

“Just apartment pamphlets.” Kei says, sitting down on the couch. Kuroo sits down heavily next to him, right next to him, leaving the rest of the couch empty. “My lease is up soon and for so long I assumed I was just going to renew, but then I wondered what else was out there and-” He shrugs.

Kei knows that’s only a small percentage of a much longer story that included a panicked phone call to Tadashi about decisions, new starts, and if anything he was thinking made sense. Tadashi couldn’t have been happier. He even helped Kei find some new places to check.

Closer to work.

Closer to Kuroo.

“I didn’t leave myself a lot of time.”

“Where are you looking? I can help you visit places. And I can help you pack, too!” Kuroo excitedly shuffles through some of the papers and Kei can see the exact moment Kuroo realizes where these places are. Sure, they’re scattered over a few neighborhoods, near two or three different stations, but -- “These are all closer to me.”

Kei can feel the warmth spreading up his neck to his cheeks, like his heart simultaneously wants to burst from feeling thrilled and from wanting to die of embarrassment before Kuroo says anything else. 

Kuroo’s eyes are so big and his bangs are threatening to stab one of them if he leaves them open this wide any longer. He starts to close his mouth as it stretches into a familiar smirk. “You like me.” He sings teasingly. 

Kei rolls his eyes but smiles. The evidence is too clear to deny. “I guess I do.”

“Kei, I would love it if you lived closer.” Kuroo twists and throws one arm around Kei’s shoulders, the other reaching up to touch his cheek. “I would love it because,” he locks his eyes onto Kei’s and Kei can feel the weight of what’s about to come, “I love you.”

He expects it to hit him like a train, knocking the air of him, throwing him into a momentary panic like those words have done before, but not this time. He feels calm. He feels ready. This is nothing like the times that came before. Kuroo’s nothing like the ones that came before. “I love you, too.”

The kisses that follow are gentle but insistent, slow but powerful. His head feels dizzy with all the things he didn’t know he could feel at once. He can’t name all the feelings. He doesn’t care. He’s happy to give in to whatever wonderful magic led him to this thing they’re building together. 

Some time later, Kuroo’s on top of him on the couch, peppering his nose and cheeks with kisses when his head perks up like he’s just remembered something. Kuroo flings one arm backwards and reaches into his back pocket. He stalls for a moment before bringing his hand up any further. “Don’t feel obligated to do the same or anything, but I had one made for you a few days ago and,” he holds up his hand near Kei’s head for him to see, “here’s a key to my place.”

Kei’s so touched it takes him a moment to form a response. His warm smile shifts to a grin. “Great, now I can break in and clean up.”

“Oh my god, would you?” Kuroo laughs.

“No.” Kei pauses. “Maybe.”

Kuroo lies back down into the crook of his neck and Kei can feel his smile against his skin. “I’m all in.”

At those simple words echoing from their beginning to where they are now, Kei melts against him and sighs his reply against the soft tangles of Kuroo’s hair. “Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever just procrastinate the crap out of something because it feels too ミ●﹏☉ミ ? Yea, this chapter. This underwent some serious changes and restarts before I ended up just sticking to the outline I had for it originally. That has to be a first. 
> 
> And while I dislike odd numbers (seriously, I need them to be divisible by 2), I do think this is on track to end in the next Chapter. I might add something small to the end to round us out at 20, but the core of the story will be done.
> 
> Soon. へ[ ᴼ ▃ ᴼ ]_/¯
> 
> But also, soon! Σ(ノ°▽°)ノ
> 
> To those of you who have consistently read, consistently commented, or are just joining now - thank you, thank you! The response has been so wonderful and the awesome things y'all said and every time someone pressed "kudos" really helped keep me going. I am so, so thankful!


	19. You’re getting a hug now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei settles into his new normal and gets to see his best friend - finally!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how this was gonna be the end? I lied. Now it's 20.

Kei’s alarm blares beside him and he glares at it before shutting it off. Unfurling from the tight, coiled ball he sleeps in every night when it’s just him in the bed, he stretches and reaches for all four corners of his new mattress. Rolling towards the edge, he slowly sets his feet on the floor, wincing at the touch of the cold floor on his bare feet but enjoying the jolt of alertness it gives him. He counts as he breathes in, hold it, lets it out slowly. Rising on unsteady legs, he opens the curtains for two windows now, instead of one, before walking out to his new living room to continue the daily pattern.

He might have moved, he might not need the rituals as much as he did several months ago, but old habits die hard. Plus, Kei likes these.

It’s a rainy autumn Friday morning with no sun to let in, but he still opens every curtain before starting his regular routine. He darts around the still-unopened boxes, determined to get Tetsurou to help him finish unpacking them this weekend. He brushes his teeth, sends a good morning text to his boyfriend. He makes his coffee, says good night to Tadashi. On his way out, Kei grabs a protein bar for breakfast and almost darts back in to pick up some leftovers from the last time Tetsurou cooked before he remembers their lunch plans.

Kei doesn’t get a seat on the train, but it’s fewer stops now and he no longer has to change train lines halfway, so he doesn’t mind as much. He does his best to find a spot to lean against so he can still hold onto his coffee while he uses his free hand to continue his chats from the morning and try keep up with the Karasuno group chat. It’s been non-stop as Hinata and Yachi take the lead on planning get togethers for when Tadashi is here in a little over a week. 

Tetsurou sends him a selfie of him still curled up in bed, hair wild and face pressed against his pillow. 

Kei>> Get up. You’re going to be late.

Tetsu>> I was up! I just accidentally got back in.

A little grin slips onto Kei’s lips, breaking his early-commute scowl.

Work goes as well as expected. Kei does his best and contributes to every meeting, but he knows he’s looking for other opportunities. It’s his own little secret that keeps him going when some middle manager tells him to change something last minute and Kei ends up having to stay late to finish while that ass goes home. 

Today, another one of his little secrets is waiting for him downstairs. His laptop tells him it’s noon. He snaps it shut, gathers what he needs, and heads towards the elevators. 

Once outside, he tugs his coat tighter around him and saunters towards the figure leaning against the wall, dressed in black from top to bottom. Kei thinks back to when Tetsurou waited for him outside just like this all those months ago.

“You look pretty suspicious, you know,” Kei walks closer and Tetsurou pockets his phone, smirking, “standing out here, looking like - this.” 

Tetsurou grins. “It’s truly my lot in life,” he says dramatically, “being this suspiciously sexy all day long. How can you handle it?”

Kei clicks his tongue and steps closer into Tetsurou’s space. “I manage.” 

“You’re so brave.”

Kei tugs on his coat. “Alright, dummy, where are we going for lunch?”

 

***

 

Later that evening after a pasta dinner they made together (well, Tetsurou made, but Kei helped - a little), they’re working through the last of Kei’s boxes. 

“Kei,” Tetsurou whines, dragging out the sounds of his name, “It’s Friday night. Can’t we do this tomorrow?”

Kei doesn’t look up from the box filled with things from his bedroom. “You agreed to this earlier.”

“I know, but that was before I knew how long it would take.” He flops onto his back on the floor. “It’s Friday. I have needs. Well-established, scheduled, fun needs. My body has expectations for Friday nights.”

Kei snorts out a laugh. “And most nights, in general.”

“That, too! But especially Fridays.” He props himself up on his elbows. “We made a good dinner, now I need my desert.” He plays up his suggestive look, wiggling his eyebrows ridiculously and licking his lips. 

Kei laughs again. “Later.” He takes pity on the creature before him. “I promise.” He adds the rest casually, “After all, I have needs, too.”

Tetsurou scrambles off the floor and plants a messy kiss on his forehead. “Fine. I’ll go clean the rest of the dishes and then we’ll finish.”

Kei continues sorting through the items that were too awkwardly shaped to pack alone so he’d wrapped them in bedding and other things he found lying around. He pulls out bundle after bundle until he reaches the bottom and sees his old Karasuno jacket staring back at him. 

The sense of nostalgia he used to get when he sees it has faded. It brings back memories, of course it does, but it’s more like a relic of his former life than and object that makes him time travel to days past. But then the corners of his lips stretch into a grin. He’s got an idea. The boxes can wait. Maybe there is still something he’s nostalgic for. 

When Tetsurou walks back into the living room, Kei’s leaning against the wall in his zipped up jacket and his boxer briefs peeking out below, pretending like he’s occupied with his phone. He’s painted on his best apathetic look, the same way he tried to look in empty locker rooms or solitary hallways when he knew a certain bed-headed captain was coming. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches for Tetsurou’s reaction, still wondering if it was a stupid idea or not.

Tetsurou smirks. “Oh ho ho, what did you find?”

Maybe not a stupid idea. Kei ignores the question, keeping his face stone-still and staring at his screen.

Tetsurou walks closer, gently slipping the phone out of his hands and setting it down on a box before he runs his hands down Kei’s sides. “You know, this would be a lot more authentic with lockers behind you.”

“Or the smell of sweat in a stairwell.”

“I liked how you always tried to pretend you just happened to be there, like you weren’t waiting for me.” Tetsurou’s hands start to wander more.

“Like you were so different? Coming in and out of the locker room ‘just to check on something?’ Again. And again. Until I got there.” Kei tilts his chin up in a challenge. 

“Smart mouth.” Tetsurou growls and nips at his neck. “I always liked knowing I could wipe that smirk off your face, even just for a second.”

Kei tilts his head in response, giving Tetsurou more room for him lips to wander. He slides his hands under the hem of Tetsurou’s loose t-shirt to spread his hands across the warm skin and pull him closer. “Likewise. You’d try to rile me up but you were always the first to lose it.”

Their lips crash together in the same messy way, only this time Kei knows it’s not going to end with him frustrated and jerking off in the bathroom once everyone’s gone to bed. Tetsurou slots his thigh between Kei’s legs and as the heat begins to build inside him, he can feel Tetsurou pushing hard against him. Kei wraps his hands around the back of Tetsurou’s neck and pulls him in closer, lips and teeth and tongues colliding.

One of Tetsurou’s hands drops from where he was pressing into his hips to grasp around his still-clothed cock, coaxing him deeper into want.

No, not a stupid idea at all. 

Tetsurou pulls back enough to unzip his jacket and Kei grins against hips lips once Tetsurou discovers there’s nothing underneath. It’s hardly anything to get worked up over, they’ve explored so much of each other already before, but judging from the hungry look in his eyes, Tetsurou disagrees. 

Abruptly Tetsurou pulls back, panting lightly. “Can I do something I always wanted to do back then?”

Kei grins despite himself when he catches Tetsurou’s gaze. It still surprises him how behind all the intensity in those eyes, there’s an undeniable softness there, too. He nods and Tetsurou gives him one last kiss, zipping down the rest of the jacket on his way down to his knees. 

As Tetsurou settles, he nuzzles against where Kei is starting to strain the fabric of his boxers. Kei groans, threading his fingers through the mess of black hair, welcoming the caress of Tetsurou’s lips against him but already needing more. 

Tetsurou lifts his hands to tug at the waist of Kei’s boxers. He slides them down quickly and guides Kei’s feet out of them once they’re around his ankles, but then his movements grow slower, more intentional. He gently scrapes his nails on the soft skin of Kei’s thighs, following the pleasant sting with warm kisses. 

“This is what you wanted back then?” Through the fog of need, Kei remembers their earlier game, the teasing they’ve never left behind.

Tetsurou hums against his sensitive skin. “I wanted to make you really lose it. Trade that sarcastic smirk for you yelling my name.”

Kei’s dick twitches against Tetsurou’s cheek and Kei feels a puff of laughter against his thigh. Tetsurou continues in between kisses as he gets closer to where Kei wants him to be. “Back then you were hot and I liked messing around with you. Now you’re hot and I love you.”

Kei prepares to respond but doesn’t get a chance. His lips fall open as Tetsurou slips his mouth around the head of his cock and rolls his tongue around it, adding pressure as he works his way around in slow circles. 

Tetsurou’s slow to take in more, forcing Kei to feel every incremental shift as he slides deeper into Tetsurou’s warm mouth, his tongue working its magic the whole time and making Kei’s moans bounce off the walls around them. He hears Tetsurou take in a deep breath and then he feels himself sliding in even deeper. Kei gasps and his head rolls back into the wall behind him. 

“Tetsu, yea, that’s--” his words are cut off as Tetsurou starts to move, bobbing his head up and down along Kei’s length. Before his heavy lids close over his eyes, Kei sees Tetsurou staring up at him with his lips stretched around him, looking pleased. Tetsurou alternates between a slow and quickening pace, letting the heat build in Kei’s abdomen before holding back once again. When he can open his eyes, Kei watches how he disappears into his mouth, watches the face Tetsurou makes as he works, and it brings him closer to the edge each time.

When he feels Tetsurou sliding off, not just sliding back, Kei lets out a whine as his eyes snap open. Tetsurou flicks his tongue at the tip as he pulls off before meeting Kei’s gaze. His grin is wicked and his voice dark when he speaks, “Do you want to fuck my mouth?”

Kei inhales sharply, his pulse quickening to impossible levels. He finds his voice, gravelly and thick, “yes.” When Tetsurou doesn’t move, just keeps looking at him without breaking eye contact, he asks again in a pleading tone. “Yes, please.”

Tetsurou grabs onto Kei’s thighs again, digging his fingers into the soft flesh. Then he swallows Kei into his hot mouth all at once. Kei tightens his grip on Tetsurou’s hair like he’s holding on for dear life. When he tugs on the locks of black hair, Tetsurou moans around him and his last shred of intelligent thought is gone.

Kei starts to thrust gently, not wanting to hurt him by going too hard too soon, but Tetsurou moves to meet his motions, encouraging him to let go. Kei holds back as long as he can, but the slick push and pull he feels in Tetsurou’s mouth, the hard strokes of his tongue to the underside, the sounds pouring from Tetsurou’s throat mixing with his own in the no-longer quiet room around him makes it difficult to do anything but give in. Kei presses his hand hard into the back of Tetsurou’s head and seeks his satisfaction, thrusting until he swears he can feel the back of his throat. 

Kei feels his heat quickly coil in his gut and he stops, letting go of Tetsurou’s head. “Stop, I’m too close.” He pants. “Let’s finish in the bedroom together.”

But Tetsurou has other ideas. He sucks Kei into his mouth again and goes hard and quick until he rips a heady, intense orgasm from Kei’s body, swallowing his release when it comes. 

Kei’s head hits the wall behind him, feeling heavy and content. His eyes are still closed as he feels Tetsurou rising to stand, leaving gentler kisses up his torso as he does. 

“There’s the face I like.” Tetsurou whispers against his ear. 

Kei just nods, unable to think of something that could keep their verbal sparring from earlier going. “I - uh - that was good.” He opens his eyes to see Tetsurou grinning. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Give me a few minutes,” Kei slows slowly, his lids growing heavy again as the post-orgasm tingle continues to warm his body, “then I’ll make you make the face I like.”

“Deal.” Tetsurou leans against the wall beside him. He’s quiet for a moment, Kei hears him steadying his breath, before he chuckles. “Oh man, that definitely satisfied some deeply-hidden want in the back of my mind.”

“Happy early birthday, then.” Kei pauses before a thought occurs to him and a smirk stretches across his face in the dark room. “You still have your old Nekoma jacket?”

“Of course. I never wear it, but it’s important, so I’ll always have it.”

“Well maybe for your real birthday, I could wear that instead.” Kei glances over in time to catch Tetsurou’s eyes snapping open wider. He’s just full of good ideas today.

 

***

 

Kei’s barely had time to settle into life in his new place without being surrounded by mountains of boxes when he’s on a train bound for Miyagi. Tadashi arrived three days earlier, but he’s been spending time with his family and catching up with his jet-lagged brain. Kei knows he could have waited until Tadashi made his way down to Tokyo a few days later. If he had waited, he would have saved money, he wouldn’t have had to use any vacation days, and he wouldn’t be forced to sleep in his tiny bed at his parent’s house for the next few nights.

But it’s worth it. Tadashi’s back home. 

Kei doesn’t read a word of the book he brought with him the whole time. It remains opened to the page where he had stopped the night before on his lap while he stares out the window and drums his fingers across its pages, watching the sun fade as he gets closer to home.

He makes a stop at his house to drop off his duffel bag and say hello to his mother before he walks the familiar path to Tadashi’s house. He’s not even to their door yet when it flings open and his best friend is standing on the other side. Kei braces himself as Tadashi, sockless and probably cold, barrels into him. 

“Welcome back.” Kei says to the tufts of hair under his chin.

“I missed you.” Comes the reply.

Kei’s swept into the house by Tadashi’s family, who is, at least a little bit, his family, too. They settle in for dinner around a simmering nabe pot on the table between them and fill their stomachs as they catch up and swap stories. It’s as though no time has passed, like no one’s grown any older, like no one lives thousands of miles away, like Kei will spend the night and wake up to go to Saturday practice with Tadashi in the morning.

After dinner, they bundle up, Kei in far more layers than Tadashi, and sit in the old patio chairs in Tadashi’s backyard. Through the years, the fabric has sunk in deeper, straining at the edges, but it makes it easier to lean back and talk while appreciating how many more stars he can see in the countryside. It’s cold, but Tadashi’s mother insisted they take some tea out with them to keep their hands and hearts warm. Their conversation fades in and out, always comfortable, always easy. 

“It doesn’t look like this in Tokyo.”

“Same in London. I think I forgot that the night sky had stuff in it.” Tadashi chuckles. “Do you miss it? Living here?”

“Not really. I don’t know what I would have done if I had stayed.”

Tadashi hums an understanding reply. “I know what you mean. Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying living abroad. It’s exciting and I like it, but, you know -”

“I know.” Kei says, chewing his lip as he rests his head on the back of the chair and stares into the sky. 

“I’m kind of split into two. Like, take my birthday. I’m flying out the day after it, right? So I get to hang out with you, which is awesome, but it also means I had to choose to not spend it back home… in my other home.” Tadashi’s voice fades out at the end until it’s a whisper. He grows still beside Kei. 

“Yea, speaking of, what have been the best parts about your ‘new home’ so far?” He asks, knowing Tadashi will knowingly, and happily, take the bait to steer the conversation into more positive territory. They’ve been friends long enough that Kei knows what he needs in moments like this. 

Kei listens as Tadashi talks about his favorite spots in his neighborhood, showing him pictures when he can. They’re all places and things Kei’s heard about before, but it’s so much better in person when Tadashi’s voice is clear and right beside him, his breath coming out in faint white puffs as the air grows cooler. 

Tadashi asks him about his move, too. Kei shows him pictures of the new place and Tadashi gives him ideas for what he should hang up where and makes a good case for why he should rearrange his living room. Kei says he’ll take it into consideration, but Tadashi doesn’t drop it until they’re both laughing and Kei has promised to at least move the new couch. 

“You’ll have so much more space if you do it my way!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll try it.”

“Well, you’ll have to. I’m staying at your place for a few days and I was going to move it regardless, so it’s better with you agreeing to it, but I don’t require your approval.”

“Remember when people thought you were shy and sweet?” Kei smirks.

“I’m still both of those things.” Tadashi scrunches up his face in mock offense, then lets it go with a sigh. “It’s good to be back.”

“Yea.” Kei agrees, not knowing what else to say. It’s just true. 

They fall quiet again, just the sounds of tea being sipped in the air between them. When the silence breaks, it’s Tadashi that speaks again first. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t around much for you this year. I know it’s been hard.”

“You were there.” Kei defends. “You were always there if I needed you.”

“I know, but it’s not the same, and-” he pauses and Kei glances over at him. Tadashi is looking out over his backyard, the moon casting strange shadows on his face. “Today, I was glad to see you looking so much better. You look like, you know, you again.” He turns his head and meets Kei’s gaze.

Kei chews on the inside of his lip and drops his eyes to his lap. “I have a present for you.”

“But it’s not my birthday yet, Tsukki.” Kei hears the playful tone in his voice, how the pitch grows higher when he gets excited.

For the first time since thinking of it, Kei feels nervous. It seemed like a good idea at the time. He’s never been a great gift giver. He likes it when people have a “thing” - volleyball like his high school friends, baking like his mother - so he can just learn the “thing” and then give them the “thing” every time there’s a holiday or a birthday. With Tadashi, though, he tries. Usually his best friend makes him something or finds something that Kei knows he found months ago while he was out and thinking about Kei and waited to give it to him. He can always see that anticipation in his eyes when he opens a gift from Tadashi. But Kei doesn’t have that gift giving muscle. It atrophied a long time ago, or he never had it to begin with, and his best friend always understood that it was the thought that counts. 

And then Tetsurou had to go and give him that damn painting. And the planter for his succulents that now sits on his windowsill in the kitchen where his plants can get the most light.

So this year he really tried. 

Kei digs into his coat pocket and pulls out a sheet of paper. Confused, Tadashi holds out his hand to take it and slowly unfurls its slightly crumpled folds. On it is a number, a moderately large number, circled in red with big, foreboding letters below it reading “SOON.”

“Tsukki, what on earth --”

“It’s how much I’ve saved up to come visit you. It’s right about enough for us to go ahead and plan this week and buy the ticket.”

Tadashi’s eyes snap up from the page. “Oh, Kei, that’s way too much, and you’ve just moved and bought all that new stuff and --”

“I want to.” Kei interrupts. “It’s fun, right? So, it’s whatever.” His grin belies the leveled tone he’s trying to maintain. 

“You’re getting a hug now.” Tadashi announces and Kei hears his patio chair scraping along the poured cement.

He flinches on instinct. “No,” he whines curling up into a ball ready to defend himself like he’s done hundreds of times against Tadashi’s powerful hugs, “it’s not even a real present. I didn’t give you anything, just paper with--”

Before he can finish, Tadashi’s wrapped both of his arms around him and they’re a jumble of laughing coats and sweaters and, judging by the grip, there’s no hope of Kei escaping anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOODNESS, so much time passed between chapters. Y'all. Life + writing for events + little kids I teach giving me all their germs = not a lot of writing stamina. Plus I was *super* procrastinating writing the ending until I decided to tear it off like a band-aid... except not all the way because, well, there's another chapter. It was either try to shove a bunch of little scenes into this one, like I had planned, or let them all grow a little longer and break it into two. So there we go! It will *not* take a month to get the last little bit finish. (Don't worry, Tadashi is still there in ch 20.)
> 
> Thank you for still reading, my lovelies! ♡〜٩(^▿^)۶〜♡ I am thankful for all of you!


	20. Love you, too.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tadashi's visit continues, Kuroo has a birthday, and they take a big step together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, it's the end. I'll gush in the end notes, but my goodness, thank you for reading this whole story. I am forever grateful to each of you.

For his birthday in Tokyo, Tadashi picks a spot near his old university for people to come and go as they say hello and catch up. The beer is fine. The food is better. For Kei, the company is overwhelming at times, especially when people that Kei doesn’t really know show up and take Tadashi’s time for a while. Kei’s understanding. He got to have his best friend all to himself for a few days, and now he has to share. He keeps trying to fade into the background, shove a couple more pieces of fried chicken in his mouth on his way to a corner, but the rest of the Karasuno crew is there and they just won’t let him be.

“I already saw Hinata in Miyagi,” Kei protests when Yachi puts both hands on his back and starts gently pushing him towards the group of people around Tadashi, “I’ve had my fill.”

“I know! But I haven’t seen you.” She puts her foot down to emphasize her point. He turns and looks down at her, biting back a grin. She might be older. She might have grown a few centimeters since high school, maybe, if she stands up straight. But Yachi is still cute and small - and powerful. 

“I see you, like, once a week.” It might not always happen, but lately they’ve done a better job of meeting up for coffee in between their two offices, usually on Mondays. It’s a better start to the week than some other things, Kei figures. 

“Not last week!” She moves her hands in the air like she’s scooting him along. 

“Fair, but I wasn’t even here for most of last week. And,” he grimaces, “Kageyama couldn’t come tonight, so Hinata is extra… himself.”

Yachi laughs. “I know! That’s half the fun. Plus,” she glances around, “Kenma’s catching the brunt of his attention right now without,” she wiggles her eyebrows, “ _Kuroo-san_ around.” She bounces back towards the group. 

“He’ll be here later.” He adds, aware that Yachi probably can’t hear him. Kei clicks his tongue in mock annoyance. He grabs hold of the beer he’s been nursing for a while and follows her. Why not? When you’re with your pack of high school idiots, become the idiot that’s been inside you all along. As he rejoins the growing circle, he makes eye contact with a weary looking Kenma on the other side. Kei gives him a knowing nod as Kenma slinks back into the row of people behind him and out of the circle entirely. 

At the center, Tadashi’s telling a new group of old friends and acquaintances his favorite story about making embarrassing English mistakes in London. Kei’s heard it so many times by this point, and he assumes Hinata has, too, but Hinata is there, adding sound-effects and asking questions to keep the story moving. Hinata has a knack for that, he thinks. He wields his intensity in so many different ways, including making whatever you’re saying feel like the most important thing in the world. 

It’s nice, Kei thinks, especially seeing the effect it has on Tadashi who’s glowing under the attention. That is, until Hinata’s sincere stare falls on him. Hinata excuses himself from the storytelling and hops his way over. 

“So, Boringshima. Any news?”

“Still no.” Hinata’s asked every time they’ve seen each other over the past week. Multiple times each day. 

“Come on.” He whines. “I already know what it is!”

“Then why do you need me to tell you?”

“Because it’s big news!” He throws both hands wide. “I need you to say it.” His eyes open wide with determination. Kei smirks. Just like Yachi. Small and powerful. 

And maybe it’s the atmosphere. Maybe it’s his soft side coming out with Tadashi around. But he opens the door to the conversation. “Fine. I’m dating someone.”

“And -”

Saying it out loud feels so stupid. He feels the immature blush rising on his cheeks and he hates it. Kei sighs. “And it’s Kuroo.”

Hinata playfully slaps him on the arm. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you two.” He grins wide, like he’s grinning with his whole heart. Kei will never be immune to that, as much as he tries to be. God, he’s like being friends with the sun. 

“For a while, right?”

Kei nods.

“I wish you had told me.” Hinata’s grin grows lopsided. “We’re _friends_ , you know.” His stare grows a little more accusatory before the sour tone fades away completely. He smiles and smacks Kei on the arm again. “Forever the same, Tsukishima. It’s a comfort, I guess. So, how’s it going with you two?”

“You just acknowledged that I’ll never change and then you try to ask me about my dating life?”

“Can’t blame me for trying.”

Kei sips his beer. 

“I mean, think about it. I could talk about Tobio, you could talk about Kuroo, about how we’re so lucky we found--”

“No.”

“--people when we were young and then--”

“No.” Kei starts to walk away.

“--even though we grew up and changed, how cool it was that--”

“I’m ending this conversation.” Kei calls back over his shoulder as Hinata keeps talking until someone pulls him happily into another discussion.

Yachi is also otherwise occupied next to Tadashi, laughing in a group filled with people he only kind of knows. Content to disappear and take a break for a while, he settles against a wall. Hardly a minute later, he feels someone settle in beside him. He looks down to see a mop of freshly-dyed blonde hair.

“Kenma.” Kei offers as a greeting.

“Tsukishima.” Kenma replies without looking up. 

They stand together in a surprisingly, Kei notes, comfortable silence. Kenma’s usual aura of “I don’t actively dislike you” feels more like an aura of “please hide me for a few minutes.” Kei obliges the silent request. 

“Kuro’s still not here.” Kenma states it like a fact in his usual deadpan tone, but Kei hears the quiet plea behind it.

“He should be here soon.”

“I know. I texted him.” 

Kei watches as Kenma’s sneakered heel taps on the floor. 

“You want to go outside for a bit?”

The reply is immediate. “Yes.”

Kei swigs the last of his beer and grabs his coat on the way to the door. Outside, there are a few people smoking. Kenma walks a few steps in the other direction and Kei follows. Just like inside, they stand near each other against a wall, but here it’s so much quieter, even with the somewhat busy street. 

“How is… work?” The question from Kenma catches Kei by surprise. He looks over, but Kenma’s looking at his phone. He’s almost not sure if he heard it. 

“It’s fine.” He responds. “And you?” Kei feels like they’re two robots recently programmed with small talk software. Buggy, but passably human. 

“Boring. But easy. Kuro says you moved.”

“Yea, two weeks ago now. It’s good. Closer to work.”

“That’s good.”

The silence falls again and it’s less comfortable than before, but Kei feels an odd friendliness in it. There’s something wonderful about knowing he isn’t the most awkward conversationalist on the planet. And even though they’re both quite clumsy verbally, an amicable attempt was made on both their parts. Big steps for the socially panicked. 

Kei feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he checks it right away, glad for the distraction. “Oh, it’s Tetsurou.”

Kenma finally looks over at him, his face inscrutable. “Yea, I got a text, too.”

“You going to stay out here?” Kei asks.

Kenma nods. “You can go back in if you want.”

Kei shakes his head. “Nah, he’s only a few stops away. I’ll stay out here for now.” 

The smile he gets in response is small, barely a corner of the right side of Kenma’s face, but Kei catches it in time. 

 

***

 

Back at Kei’s new apartment that night, Kei’s on the floor with his back against his couch and his long legs stretched under the coffee table. On either side of him are his best friend and his boyfriend. Both are a little tipsy, like himself. Both have also not stopped talking about what Kei was like as a kid since Tadashi traitorously brought out photos he had secretly snapped with his phone back at Kei’s house in Miyagi (though Kei swears his mom had to have been an accomplice). 

“Look how sweet his smile is!” Tetsurou beams for the thousandth time. 

“I know.” Tadashi replies enthusiastically, dragging out the sounds of the word for emphasis. 

They’re insufferable. Kei drops his head onto the couch cushions behind him and groans as the picture switches from one of him in elementary school to him as a baby. 

“Alright, that one looks a little more familiar. There’s a strong frown on that face.” Tetsurou pecks him on the cheek.

Tadashi laughs. “Oh but he’s so chubby.”

“How is any of this fair? Where are your photos?” Kei complains.

Tadashi throws back his head and laughs again. Tetsurou chuckles and then sits up quickly. He grabs for his phone off of the coffee table, mumbling to himself. “Ah! I do have one. An offering.” He flips his phone around to a photo he’s recently been tagged in. “I was digging through some old stuff in my place, for ideas or whatever, and came across a few.”

“You were so cute.” Tadashi sings. 

The photo is blurry, but Kei has to agree. There’s only tufts of black hair on top of the chubby baby’s head, but you can tell it’s Tetsurou from the eyes. “Yes, you _were_ so cute.” Kei changes the emphasis. Just because he agrees doesn’t mean he can let go of all the snark. 

“You see what I put up with?” Tetsurou asks Tadashi. 

“Okay, what are we doing next?” Kei changes the subject. 

They end up moving to the couch and watching a movie, one of the cheaply made animal horror movies from their typical best friend nights in. Tadashi starts with his back on the arm rest, his feet tucked under Kei’s leg until a popcorn bowl arrives. Then he tucks in his feet, sitting cross legged next to Kei with the bowl between them. Tetsurou stays nestled next to Kei the whole time. Kei tries not to judge himself too harshly for how much he enjoys the way their fingers dance around each other the whole time - thumb strokes on a palm, fingers dusting up his arm, a warm hand held around his. 

When the credits roll, Tetsurou stretches and starts to get up. “Well, I guess it’s time for me to head out so you two can hang out more.”

“No, stay.” Tadashi checks the time on his phone. “I’m probably going to need to sleep soon anyway. Don’t let me kick you out. I’m here another day.”

“Kei?” Tetsurou looks at him expectantly. 

Kei grimaces after running through his options. “I can’t have you stay over with Tadashi in the other room. It’s like -- it’s like my mom is here.”

Tadashi looks absolutely tickled at the teasing opportunity that has just been given to him. “So I’m your mom now?”

“No! It’s just--” Kei groans. 

“It’s fine, Kei, either way.” Tetsurou says through a grin.

“Not really, Kuroo. If you go, then Tsukki might really _miss you_.”

“Oh my god, stop.”

“He might need some _company_ tonight.”

“Stop.”

“You know, company. In bed. Like se-”

“Don’t even!” Kei’s face is red when he tears after Tadashi who’s already started running down the hallway.

When they come back, they’re both laughing and Tetsurou is leaning against the wall that separates Kei’s living room from his kitchen. “Well?”

“You can stay. It’s too late for you to go back easily anyway. But no touching.”

Tadashi cackles as he grabs his pajamas from his suitcase. “I got first shower. I’ll leave you two to all of your not touching.” He winks at both of them before disappearing down the hallway. 

That night Tetsurou does not follow the one rule, but Kei also fights very little to enforce it. The one compromise is that Kei hikes up his shirt and bites down on it to keep from yelling out. Tetsurou informs him that the move is shockingly hot and rewards him for it. 

Kei’s just glad Tadashi always sleeps with earplugs. 

In the morning, over a plate filled with pancakes made by Tetsurou, Tadashi keeps grinning at him. 

“What?” He asks when Tetsurou’s back over by the stove making his next batch.

“Just happy you’re happy.” 

Kei chews the inside of his cheek before he can answer. “Thanks.”

Tetsurou spins around with his creations stacked precariously on top of a spatula. “Who needs more pancakes?”

 

***

 

Tetsurou does, in fact, find his Nekoma jacket and gives it to Kei to wear on his birthday. The only problem is --

“I’m dying.” Tetsurou whines, his voice calling out hoarse and raspy from where he’s twisted up in his sheets. “Kei, I’m dying. I’m dead. Call the undertaker because I’m already dead.”

Now Kei’s just his Nekoma-dressed nurse for the evening. “Do you think you can eat something?” Kei rounds the corner to enter his room with a bowl of microwaved soup resting on a folded up kitchen towel in his hands. 

Tetsurou makes a few noncommittal whines in response before finally uttering a small “maybe.”

Kei sits on the edge of the bed and Tetsurou slowly shifts to sit up. The sheets fall off to expose his clammy torso. “I can’t tell if I’m hot or freezing.”

Kei places the back of one of his hands to his back. “You’re hot.”

“Yea I am.” Tetsurou responds suggestively, but it’s punctuated by another round of chest-wracking coughs. He falls heavy against Kei’s side. “Thank you.”

“It’s just canned soup. I’m sorry.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” 

Kei was over here the night before, too, trying to restore him to health before his big get-together with friends. It’s all been pushed to the next weekend, though. Kei even took care of texting Tetsurou’s friends to let them know since his fever-addled boyfriend was barely coherent the previous night. Somewhere in between getting a bunch of canned soup and Tetsurou’s favorite brand of tea and serving spoonfuls of soup into Tetsurou’s pitiful mouth, Kei recognizes the shift. 

It’s not that he’s never cared for a sick boyfriend before. He’s not a monster. It’s just that before, he’d had to push past the ever-present thought of germs, sanitize his hands constantly, be kind for as long as he could stand, and then get out of there to keep himself well. 

This time, coming over felt like a reflex, an automatic response he didn’t even have to think about. 

Tetsurou chokes on a barely-chewed carrot and coughs again.

Kei laughs.

“Rude. I’m dying.” Tetsurou protests.

“Dying men still have to chew their food.”

“I’m just hungry.”

“That’s a good sign. You haven’t been able to eat much today.”

“Didn’t want to.” Tetsurou coughs again. “Easier with my _sexy doctor_ here.” His attempt at a mood is wholly ruined by the horrendous sneeze that follows.

Kei rolls his eyes. “You can put the moves on me later. Right now, just eat.”

“But it’s my birthday.” He protests, looking pitiful. “And I’m dying.”

“And what? I need to fulfill some dying man’s last request?”

“Exactly.” Tetsurou takes one last spoonful of soup into his mouth before carefully grabbing the bowl and reaching over to set it on his nightstand. When he settles back, he collapses hard onto Kei’s shoulder. “This dying man’s request is doing delicious things with you in that jacket, but first, I need a nap.” Another round of coughing takes over for a moment. “And an exorcism. Maybe both.”

Kei chuckles softly as he gets up to give Tetsurou room to lie back down again, but a clammy hand catches his first. “I know I’m gross, but can you stay here tonight?”

Kei looks at him. He takes in the way his cheek is pressed into the bedsheets, his hair deflated, strands of it stuck to his sweaty forehead. He notices how his heavy eyelids are already fluttering closed. Kei helps move him so his head is back on his pillows and his now-shivering body is tucked under a blanket. 

He doesn’t even need to check to know that he has clothes in Tetsurou’s dresser for tomorrow and the book he’s reading is already out on the couch waiting for him. His reply comes as easy as breathing, as easy as these new routines, these new habits in his life. 

He kisses Tetsurou’s forehead and shuts off his light. “Always.” 

 

***

 

_11 months and 2 weeks later_

“I am so sick of moving.” Kei takes his frustration out on a heavy box as he sags against it, sliding onto the floor.

“Yea, but it’s done, babe.” Tetsurou calls from the kitchen. He pops around the corner, sweaty and tired but smiling. “This is our apartment.”

The mood lifts and Kei sits up, prying his moist t-shirt from his body. He smiles, too. 

Unlike last time, this doesn’t feel like he’s going through the motions, ticking off boxes that feel appropriate. He didn’t even say yes right away. It was just that after Tetsurou dropped the “we should live together” bomb while watching a movie one night, Kei couldn’t stop thinking about it. He waited for the obsession to turn negative, but all he felt was a strange concoction of nerves and anticipation. Kei wanted to do this. It was insane, right? They hadn’t been together for long enough. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. But he wanted it. He wanted to stop having to kiss and say good night, then go to bed alone. Tetsurou’s cooking wasn’t bad to have around either. 

As long as there was a space where he could be alone when he needed to be.

To make that happen, after Kei’s birthday they started looking for places a little farther outside the city center where they could find a two bedroom, or at least a big enough one bedroom, that wouldn’t make either of them go broke. After using all of Kei’s spreadsheets and pros and cons lists, they settled on a place and signed both of their names on a lease. 

Again, Kei waited for his usual panic to set in. To be sure, her had his moments. He hated the way Tetsurou packed. He got anxious thinking about someone being in his space all the time. He worried about what things they might learn about each other after being around one another day and night, but they all came in waves. 

And when the worry took over, Tadashi was always a phone call away. Tetsurou was always there now, too. 

Tetsurou leans over a box in their living room and starts ripping off the tape.

“Tetsu, no way. It’s too late. We can start unpacking tomorrow.” 

“Just this box. Promise.” Tetsurou busies himself with his task like he’s determined, even though Kei knows he’s just as tired as he is. 

Curious, Kei scoots across the floor to settle near Tetsurou’s bare feet.

Tetsurou finally rips off the last piece of stubborn tape and pulls out of framed photo like it’s a prize. Kei can’t help the grin that surfaces. It’s one of the selfies Tadashi took when Kei was in London in the spring. Tetsurou sets it gently on the floor, resting it on the wall. Next he takes out a bunch of photos clipped onto a ribbon, hastily taken selfies and posed photos from the last year or so. Tetsurou used to have it hung over his workspace in his old living room. Kei’s eyes land on a shot from several weeks ago. It’s just a group of four friends outside a ramen shop, but for Tetsurou it was really important. 

Seeing the faces look back at him, Kei’s reminded of something he meant to say earlier. “We should take Bokuto and Akaashi out to dinner to thank them for helping this morning.”

Tetsurou turns and grins. “Yea, good idea.” He doesn’t ever say it, but Kei knows how much it means to him every time the four of them hang out. It’s still so weird, but it’s getting easier.

Kei stands up, finally understanding why Tetsurou is insisting on doing this before they put their bed together and collapse into it. 

Before long, there’s a row of photographs and art pieces lined up in front of them. Nothing’s hung up, but already it feels a little more like home. Kei slumps onto the floor and Tetsurou follows, slipping farther to lie all the way down and put his head in Kei’s lap. 

“I want to sleep. And shower.” Tetsurou groans.

“Swap the order, then yes.” Kei falls back onto the floor, too. _Our floor._ “We have to put our bed together first.” _Our bed._

“Think of how much easier it’ll be to put together a bed when you’re all fresh from a shower.”

 _Our shower._ “Your logic is flawed. I’ll be too sleepy.”

“Fine. We take a shower and if you’re too sleepy, I’ll put our bed together.”

“Deal.” Kei repeats the word “our” in his head before everything he can see. Our couch. Our windows. Our photos. Our kitchen. His heart rate picks up, but it’s not the typical butterflies or bees. From his fingertips to his toes, there’s a thrilling hum of excitement, of possibility. 

Kei remembers something Tadashi told him months ago when everything with Tetsurou was new and confusing. He can’t recall the exact words, but the little Tadashi voice in his head reminds him that the right person doesn’t fix you, they just give you the strength to be a little better on your own.

He lazily runs his fingers up from his boyfriend’s neck to the soft, short little hairs above. 

Tetsurou stretches, yawning. “I’ll start the shower.” Tetsurou hefts himself off the floor and plants a sloppy kiss on Kei’s cheek before he walks down the hallway to the bathroom. “Love you.”

The reply is a simple, happy habit now. “Love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do I even say here? I don't knooooow. ｡：ﾟ(｡ﾉω＼｡)ﾟ･｡
> 
> Just... wow. When I began writing this in March, I had no idea what a warm, wonderful reception it would have. You have all been so fun to share this story with. Just thank you, thank you, thank you. (°◡°♡)
> 
> I feel weird now that it's over, but I'm also looking forward to what comes next. (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و
> 
> A thousand more thank yous to everyone who read, left kudos, subscribed, and bookmarked. And to my friends who commented, a thousand more. Seeing those messages in my inbox made my day every single time. THANK YOU, READERS!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! The writer beast is a fickle thing. Kudos fuel the fire. Comments make the fire roar. Bookmarks and subscriptions cause an explosion... of love and gratitude. The Haikyuu fandom is so wonderful, I'm just happy to contribute some back as thanks for all the fantastic things I get to read! 
> 
> This is rated E for later chapters. I know why you're here. This is Kurotsuki. Sinnamon rolls. 
> 
> [Chat with me on twitter @HeyMellieJellie](https://www.twitter.com/heymelliejellie)


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